


Move Past This

by goodgollyzollie



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, Attempted Kidnapping, Attempted Murder, Background Poly, Eventual Smut, I promise, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Light Angst, M/M, Medical Procedures, Mutual Pining, Organized Crime, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Smoking, Trans Bokuto Koutarou, Trans Male Characters, Transphobia, Weapons, bad father-son relationship, not as dark as it sounds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-06-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:35:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 41,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23743168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goodgollyzollie/pseuds/goodgollyzollie
Summary: Kuroo was well-practiced at the art of being a criminal. And up until that August night he had a pretty good track record too.  But, of course, when rich people, over-priced tequila, and amber eyes are involved, even the best laid plans go awry.
Relationships: Bokuto Koutarou/Kuroo Tetsurou
Comments: 46
Kudos: 163





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kuroo gets his latest assignment.

Normally his job was fairly easy. At least, easy as a job killing another person could be. It was impersonal and didn’t require much more than a shot to the head or a knife to the throat. And, fully bragging, Kuroo was really good at what he did. Why mess with perfection by putting him on a kidnapping job?

Kuroo asked Oikawa as much when his new assignment was given to him. 

Oikawa shrugged nonchalantly, lighting a cigarette with deceptively delicate fingers. “Thought you might be getting bored,” he answered. “They say that constant repetition dulls receptivity. Wouldn’t want one of my best to dull.” 

Kuroo sucked on his teeth, and peeked in the file. The only son and heir of a wealthy businessman who regularly bribed high ranking officials that their mysterious client wanted to bribe instead. The son was unemployed and known for blowing his father’s money on cars, partying, and designer clothes. A tall, strong guy who had a thing for “attractive people with dark hair.” Kuroo snorted.

“You chose me because I’m pretty?” He asked, looking up at Oikawa through his lashes. “I’m flattered, boss, but this is a shitty way to tell me.”

Oikawa laughed. “Though you are one of the prettier ones here, I chose you because your skills are best suited to this particular man. He looks stupid, but I suspect he’s gonna need a more heavy-handed approach. He’s got a criminal record about as long as his father’s, though not necessarily one of a criminal mastermind,” Oikawa pulled a sheet out from the folder, and pointed. “Aiding and abetting, extortion, bribery of a public official, excessive force leading to the physical harm of another person-- and those are only the charges on record. This is a brute, even if he is slow.” His eyes cut up to Kuroo’s. “He’s the son of a rich man who’s learned some of the tricks of the trade.”

Kuroo frowned, flipping back to the first page. The picture given showed a young man with carefree smile and silver hair, just slightly grown out at the roots. He was leaning against a blue car, some Italian make, shirt unbuttoned to show off defined collarbones. But his eyes, not squished up despite the smile, were alert and such a bright brown they looked amber. 

_Bokuto Koutarou_.

Kuroo couldn’t help it-- he cracked a grin. Oikawa hummed. “He’s a cutie, isn’t he?” He asked, flicking ash into the silver tray next to him. “I knew you’d have a change of heart once you thought about this.”

Kuroo glanced up, seeing his boss’s shit eating grin. “His eyes are just kinda…”

“Dangerous? Sexy? I know. I had way too much fun looking through his Instagram,” Oikawa sighed, “which is why I recommend a perusal before the job. It might make the actual extraction easier too, if you can find a way to lower his guard a bit first. I had Kozume and Fukunaga pull out all the really important stuff and put it in there already, but I think you could probably find some more with a little research of your own.”

Kuroo raised an eyebrow. “We’re not just gonna break into his apartment in the middle of the night?” Oikawa scoffed and shook his head.

“God, no,” Oikawa snubbed his cigarette with a sniff, “the Bokuto family has installed highly sensitive equipment to prevent this sort of thing. They’re not a family to sneeze at. No,” he unlocked his desk drawer, “you’re going undercover for a night of debauchery. It’s one of his friend's birthdays soon.” 

He pulled out a thin black box, and opened it slowly, turning it so Kuroo could see the contents. It was a fancy-looking silver watch from a brand he wasn’t familiar with. “You’re going undercover as Obara Yuuma. You’re the illegitimate son of the Financial Minister Obara Shota and an American mother. He’s an actual person, but very few people know of his existence and even fewer people know what he looks like. However, the Bokuto family has enough interest in the Minister that if you show up to a party saying you’re his son, we might be able to lure the younger Bokuto quite easily.”

Before Kuroo could open his mouth, there was a knock at the door and Iwaizumi poked his head in. “Sorry, boss, but you have dinner at six. Should I tell Wakabayashi you’ll be late?”

Oikawa shook his head. “No, I’ll be out in a minute. I’ve pushed him away enough already. Bring the car around back.” Iwaizumi nodded and shut the door. Oikawa smiled pleasantly at Kuroo. “I have everything else you need in the file. If you have any questions, there’s still about a week until we’re planning the extraction.”

“Wow,” Kuroo wistled, “when you say ‘extraction’, it sounds so official. Like we’re cops or something.” Oikawa faked a gag.

“Fine, the kidnapping is in a week,” Oikawa said, pushing the watch box across the desk to him. “Here’s your bling. Don’t pawn it, asshole-- it has a geotracker in it and it won’t get enough to be worth the trouble. Don’t pick up any more jobs until this is done, either. I want you to be focused on this and I can’t risk something happening that would compromise this one. It’s worth a lot, and could potentially open up some contacts in the local government in the near future.” He stood and Kuroo followed, scooping up his new trinkets.

Oikawa waited for Kuroo to open the door for him, adjusting his cuffs. With a grin, Kuroo swung the door open and bowed low. “Enjoy your dinner with Wakabayashi-san, boss.”

Oikawa shuddered. “He may pay well, but I hate his particular brand of old rich bastard.” Kuroo snickered as Oikawa locked the office doors behind him.

“Let me know if he offers to suck on your toes again,” Kuroo called in a sing-song voice over his shoulder as he walked down the hall to stairs, to which Oikawa replied with a resolute “I’ll kill you someday, Kuroo Tetsurou.”

Kuroo laughed as his boss’s footsteps disappeared into his personal restroom. He pulled out his work phone and texted in the group chat _drinks?_

Matsukawa texted back almost immediately. 

_Hanamaki and I can’t. Our guy still hasn’t shown up. I bet it’s gonna be a while :(_

Kuroo frowned. _Boo_

Yamamoto responded with _same 4 inuoka n me_

Kuroo sighed frustratedly as he opened his locker. _Kenma? Fukunaga? Yahaba? Watari?_

_Papers to file_ was Fukunaga’s excuse. No one else answered his call for companionship. Watari was probably guarding Oikawa with Iwaizumi and Yahaba was with his sister, so he wasn’t going to hear from them. And Kenma was likely just ignoring him.

“Fine,” Kuroo muttered to himself, “I’ll just get drunk alone then.”

After changing out of his work uniform into his normal street clothes and shoving the watch box into his locker safe, he contemplated also putting his case folder in there too. However, he figured he should probably start research on this guy-- Bokuto Koutarou-- if he wanted to get the job done cleanly. He stuffed the flimsy manila folder in his backpack and shut the safe, clanging the locker closed behind it. He took out his contacts at the grimy sink, shoving the contact case away and popping on his glasses. He prefered the contacts for work but thought the glasses made him look less intimidating on the street. Popping a beanie on over his head and zipping his hoodie up halfway, and the transformation from contract killer to scruffy student was complete. 

He walked from the back to out front, where a bored looking Kunimi was sitting on his phone at the reception desk. The front business was an architectural consulting firm, and they took turns on a small rotation of being stationed on reception to lie low between jobs. Mainly it was Kuroo, Yahaba, Kunimi, and Watari, as they typically handled higher profile killings and therefore had a higher chance of being recognized if they did “field work” too often. 

Kuroo supposed it would be his turn to man the front desk next week. _Blech_.

Kunimi barely raised his eyes before going back to his phone as Kuroo passed him. “Have a good weekend, Kuroo. Enjoy the peace.”

Kuroo sighed dramatically, leaning against the front desk. “You know I don’t do peace, Kunimi. This is the wrong business for it.”

Kunimi rolled his eyes. “Fair enough. Have a good time getting shitfaced then.”

Kunimi turned back to his phone, giving a clear indication that this talk was over, and Kuroo left. He was humming to himself-- there was a tune that he couldn’t get out of his head but wasn’t sure what it was called or where it came from. He popped his headphones in while he waited for the bus, scrolling through his Spotify aimlessly. He didn’t know if it was one song he’d saved after listening to it once, but finding it would probably be impossible. He had at least six thousand songs saved, with a hundred or so saved in the last week. 

The bus came to a rattling idle in front of him, and he stepped aside to let a hunched older woman off ahead of him. She smiled at him gratefully and he smiled back. 

Some Western song came on. _This it?_

He swiped his card and looked around the bus. There weren’t any seats open, which was unsurprising at this hour. He sighed and found a handrail that was unoccupied. 

Even though this song was also catchy, this wasn’t it. _Annoying._

He rode the bus for another seven stops, getting off at the one a few stops before the metro. The bus was getting really packed, and he couldn’t stand the feeling of this creepy old man staring at him from the back of the bus any longer. Kuroo wished the guy knew he could kill him with a single shot to the temple, though he could also add in one to the stomach for fun. Or the foot.

He passed a convenience store, pausing to try and remember if he had anything to drink at home. _Won’t hurt to buy a little something as a Friday night treat._

The “treat” ended up being a very cheap four liter of whiskey (less than 2000 yen) but still. A treat.

Truth be told, even though he was comfortable, his life was certainly not one that he would consider stereotypical for a hitman. He lived in a kind of shitty apartment, didn’t dress extravagantly, and the largest purchase he had made since starting the job had been a Switch. 

Most went towards rent, food, and a bit set aside for occasional dates. The whole dating thing wasn’t super great that month, however, so he had a little extra cash in his wallet. Those past few months. Full disclosure: it was hard to date as a contract killer. Mostly it was going out to a bar, and maybe hooking up afterwards. And then, if the apartment was the final destination, pushing them out before they saw any guns or brass knuckles or files of targets that he sometimes kept lying around.

He sent the rest of his money to his brother-- while Kuroo would never tell Hachirou where it was from and Hachirou would never ask, Kuroo suspected that he thought Kuroo was an escort. 

When he got to his apartment, he popped a rice and vegetable dish in the microwave and turned on the dinky television, flipping to the news. Some celebrity couple got engaged. The economy was doing well. A boy fell onto the train tracks and was saved by some bystanders. 

_Heartwarming._

His microwave beeped and he pulled the steaming dish out. It smelled like over-boiled carrot and soggy rice which, coincidentally, is exactly what it tasted like. He smeared sriracha over it in a weak attempt to make it more appetizing. To top it off, he poured himself a glass of whiskey and settled down in front of the TV. 

Kuroo knew how to live luxuriously.

He lifted the remote to change the channel when a familiar face caught his attention. The story was about some new art gallery construction in a museum that had opened that day. A museum director was standing and shaking the hand of a greying man in a well fitted suit, and according to the news anchor the gallery had been sponsored by some tech company. But behind the museum director and the man, next to a line of city council members, stood Bokuto Koutarou. 

He was looking like a typical rich son, standing straight and looking ahead with an air of boredom and indifference. But he still had a sort of bubbling intensity that unsettled Kuroo. And maybe aroused him. Just a bit.

The younger Bokuto flicked his eyes over to the camera that had filmed for this news station and flashed a quick smile at the camera-- barely an uplift of a single corner of his mouth, but Kuroo couldn’t stop the exciting thrum through his veins. It was like he was taunting him, challenging him: _come and get me Kuroo_.

Just as quickly it was gone and his eyes continued their path down the row of cameras and Kuroo changed the channel. He didn’t need to worry about him right now, it was his Friday night off. Maybe he could go to a bar and pick someone up, for a change of routine. Or he could call his friends who were at university in another city. It’d been a while since he called them. Or he could play Smash Bros.

After a couple more glasses of whiskey and more than a couple of rounds of Smash, Kuroo was feeling tired. It was only twelve thirty, but he was sick of video games. And didn’t want to go out to a bar. And Yaku and Kai were probably out anyway. Like normal twenty-somethings on a Friday night.

After wrestling with feeling lame for a minute, Kuroo turned off his game and pulled off his shirt and flopped back on his futon. With his phone plugged in next to him as he closed his eyes, he tried to just fall asleep. Maybe he’d just get up early and run tomorrow.

Even drunk, he knew that was ridiculous.

Still, despite his exhaustion, he couldn’t sleep. After fighting for about ten minutes he grabbed his phone and opened Instagram. He told himself he was just checking to see what his friends were doing tonight, but soon he found himself inexplicably typing in ‘bokuto koutarou’ into the search bar.

And there he was. Him and his 100.8k followers. It wasn't hard to see why he had that many, despite just being a locally known son of a businessman. Because clearly that was not the angle he was taking this account.

Immediately, between pictures of cars, outfits, and parties, Bokuto’s face and body stood out. Whether it was a group picture at some party or a solo picture of pretty much only his arms flexing in a mirror, he was hard to miss. In most of the pictures, he either wore focused bedroom eyes or a wide goofy grin. Both were pretty good looks for him. 

Kuroo scrolled through his curated feed of bright photos, careful to not like any, and whistled lowly. Bokuto had a sinfully tight ass and huge arms. Though there weren’t any shirtless pictures, there were plenty of other thirst traps to admire. For example, there was one video of him pulling himself out of a pool showing off his back and thighs that Kuroo watched a few times for research. 

That suit he wore on the news, while still flattering, had not showcased those features in particular.

Between the thirsting, Kuroo actually was conducting research, writing down details he picked out in his notes app when he saw something of interest. But most of it was just ogling at his body. And his really charming smile.

_Focus, Tetsurou. You're a criminal, and what you're not going to do is get a fucking crush on your target._

He scrolled up to the top and just as he was about to click away he saw Bokuto had some stuff on his story. Chewing his lip, Kuroo weighed watching it. It was probably just some videos of him at some club, being drunk and stupid. But it could also be helpful. And also maybe (mostly) just fun. 

Ultimately, he decided there was no harm in being one of the thousands watching his story and clicked on his icon.

The first was just a picture of his breakfast, and the next was a picture of him in the gym. Looking jacked, but whatever. Kuroo would lift an extra day this week. The next were Bokuto bothering a man Kuroo recognized from a few pictures on his account, someone named Akaashi. If he was significant, Kuroo was sure Kenma wrote about him in Bokuto’s files. Another meal picture. A picture of Akaashi and him on the couch. And, finally, the party portion of the story.

In the next few, Bokuto was taking shots with another man Kuroo recognized from his account-- a man with bleached hair and a tongue piercing that he showed off after throwing his shot back. In the background, there was a bottle of Patrón. Kuroo wrinkled his nose. Tequila was never his thing, but he wrote it down. Alcohol can say a lot about a person. 

The next few were Bokuto dancing with a few different people, taking a shot out of some vaguely familiar girl’s cleavage, and him drunkenly kissing his blond friend on the forehead. 

If this guy really wasn’t an idiot, he sure did a good job of hiding it behind sloppy posts like this. Kuroo chuckled, imagining what his father would say if he posted stuff like this. He supposed that it could be the point, having Bokuto play the reckless son role while his father did very illegal things behind the scenes, though it seemed to be a bit of a stretch.

When Kuroo forced himself to shut off his phone, he spent way too long staring at the ceiling before he was able to drop off in sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *whispering frantically to myself* please don't abandon this
> 
> Inspired partially by a hitman au i read recently (somewhere in my bookmarks) and partially bu Griefer Belt, which I reread for the seventh time 
> 
> tumblr: goodgollywrites


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kuroo meets his target. Kenma has concerns.

The weekend passed with relative ease. Kuroo glanced through Bokuto’s folder once, finding out the guy he had seen in his story was Terushima Yuuji, a friend from high school, and the girl with the boob shot had likely been Suzumeda Kaori, a relatively new friend and the lucky birthday girl next weekend. 

After that, he didn’t do much, only going out to get food and go on a run (Bokuto’s calves scared Kuroo into it). Beyond the calf intimidation, Kuroo kept his mental promise to not think about the job and spent most of his time playing Zelda and drinking his cheap whiskey and a beer he found in the back of his fridge.

Still, there was a nagging, uncomfortable feeling in his mind that he couldn’t shake.

When he walked into the office Monday, Iwaizumi was waiting at Kuroo’s locker. Kuroo crooked an eyebrow at him but smiled all the same. “Hey, Iwaizumi. To what do I owe the pleasure of your presence at my humble locker?”

“Oikawa wants to talk to you,” Iwaizumi explained, “and he says it’ll be quick, because he has a client meeting at 10:30 to prepare for, but it’s of the ‘utmost importance’ he talks to you before we open.” On the words ‘utmost importance’ he rolled his eyes. Kuroo rolled his eyes back empathetically. 

“I’m sure it is. I’ll head up now, then,” he sighed, though he was secretly relieved. Maybe Oikawa also had a weird feeling. 

When Kuroo entered Oikawa’s office, Kenma was there, passing a thick folder over to Oikawa with a look of rundown reluctance. Kuroo had to stifle a laugh at his friend’s face. Kenma typically sent Fukunaga up to talk to Oikawa, preferring to stay in the lab in the basement whenever possible. He must have lost some sort of disagreement with Fukunaga to come up here.

Kenma must have heard him, because he shot him a harmless but still irritated glare his way. 

Oikawa signed some paper in the folder, and passed the folder back to Kenma with a fake smile. “Here you go!” He said brightly. 

Kenma didn’t smile back, but instead bowed quickly and shuffled out, closing the door behind him tightly. Oikawa’s smile dropped when he looked at Kuroo. “Sit,” he commanded, reaching for his cigarettes. “We have some exciting new developments.”

Kuroo frowned, and sat heavily. “What?”

Oikawa flicked his lighter. “Well,” he mumbled around his cigarette, “I got a call this weekend. I’ll give you three guesses who it was.”

“Did the client back out of the deal?”

“No,” Oikawa said, cigarette lit now, “even better. I got a call from Bokuto Hiroki while I was at my Saturday afternoon spa session. He wants to hire us this weekend.”

“Who?”

“Bokuto Koutarou’s father.”

“Holy shit.”

“That’s not even the best part,” Oikawa assured him. “He’s sending his son to set up a meeting between us today.”

Kuroo slumped back in his seat. “So, what, am I supposed to kill someone for Bokuto Hiroki or get his son for our client? How much is Hiroki offering?”

Oikawa shook his head. “You’re going to focus on getting Bokuto Koutarou on Friday. He’s not offering enough for me to take you off the kidnapping, but I’ll put someone else on it.”

Kuroo felt his eyebrows shoot up under his hair that was still pinned under his beanie. “Then I need to get out of here. Bokuto Koutarou can’t see me.” He was about to stand when Oikawa chuckled.

“No, you’re going to meet Bokuto today, Kuroo. Prepare to become Obara Yuuma.” 

After the initial shock of this plan settled, Kuroo had to admit while it was ballsy, it was not totally crazy. He would be Obara Yuuma, who was interning at this business, and act as Oikawa’s personal assistant. 

The main plan was he'd lead Bokuto to Oikawa’s office, flirt with him a little, and drop that he was free this weekend if Bokuto wanted to get together. Then it came down to chance. Ideally, Bokuto took the bait and offered for him to come to the party for Suzumeda. If not, Kuroo would still come, but say that he and his friends were just bar hopping since the party would be in a club. And then the plan would proceed accordingly.

The key to this all, however, was that Bokuto didn’t know that this wasn’t actually an architectural firm. And that was a big if. Which is why, if Bokuto even showed the slightest inclination that he knew where he was, Iwaizumi would take Kuroo’s place walking him upstairs while Kuroo hid in the back.

However, Oikawa seemed pretty confident that he was kept in the dark. 

“Even though he’s not a good guy, his father seemed pretty honest. He told me not to talk about any details of the meeting with his son beyond what he told me to say.”

Still, when Kuroo is standing in a clean, bloodless suit, hair brushed back in a way that makes him look like a douchebag, smelling like Matsukawa’s cologne, and the watch on his left wrist, he was feeling jittery. And seeing Iwaizumi sitting stiffly at the desk and staring straight ahead made Kuroo more nervous.

_ Could he look less like a receptionist? Actually, maybe he could, if he was scowling just a bit harder _ .

The rest of the staff huddled in the back with Kuroo, whispering quietly. Nobody had ever met the person they were going to abduct before the actual abduction, much less under such intentional circumstances or while at the office. 

Someone sneezed. The mini waterfall in the entryway trickled ominously. The wall clock above the front desk ticked with deafeningly loud  _ tock _ s. 

It was 10:41 and Bokuto hadn’t arrived yet. This was a possibility that they hadn’t considered, Bokuto not even showing up.

_ Tock. Tock. Tock. _

Kenma looked like he was about to disappear back into the basement and Inouka was glancing at his gun that he had taken apart to clean at the table when Iwaizumi coughed loudly into the earpiece that Kuroo and Oikawa are connected to. 

He was there. 

Kuroo tensed up and strained to hear through the door. The doorbell dinged, and a breathless voice asked “I haven’t missed my appointment, have I?” 

Iwaizumi, to his credit, sounded pleasant when he said “Name?”

“Uh,” the voice said, still gasping. Had he been sprinting? “Bokuto Koutarou.”

A couple of the staff watched the security cam footage in the corner and tried not to be too loud when whispering about Bokuto.

“What was your meeting about?”

“Oh, fuck, um,” Bokuto stumbled, “a rec center? Or something like that. Maybe it was a new office building, now that I think about it, fuck, hold on, I wrote it down.”

Kuroo heard Iwaizumi’s barely perceptible sigh over Bokuto’s scrambling before he said “Here you are! Let me just let Oikawa-san’s assistant know you’re here and he’ll show you upstairs to his office. Please sit down for a moment.”

“Oh, thanks bro!” Bokuto said, sounding relieved, and his footsteps walked over to the sparse waiting area as Iwaizumi emailed Kuroo and Oikawa.

_ He seems clueless, but it’s your call, Oikawa _

Oikawa responded immediately. 

_ Go ahead Kuroo. I trust Iwaizumi. _

Kuroo straightened his tie and back a piece of hair that had escaped the gel.  _ Too late now. _

He grabbed a black leather folder as something professional-ish to hold and opened the door.

In one of the firm reception room chairs sat Bokuto Koutarou. He was taller than he looked in the photos, and wider too. His hair was ruffled from the walk (run?) to the office. He was wearing clothes that probably cost more than Kuroo’s entire rent last month but seemed like he had just pulled them off his floor. His eyes were covered by sunglasses and he was bouncing his leg restlessly, pulling together the whole look of frazzled rich brat.

Kuroo cleared his throat and smiled at him. “Bokuto-san?”

Bokuto looked up, beamed at him, and jumped up. “That’s me!”

_ No no no. Do not smile at me. _

“Oikawa-san will be happy to have such a cheery visitor, even if he is fifteen minutes late,” Kuroo teased, trying to bury whatever had sprung up in him.

“Oh, fuck, I’m real sorry about that, man,” Bokuto said, deflating, “I really tried to get here on time. My dad would be mad if he knew, but I’m so hungover.”

He pushed up his glasses in his hair, looking over to Kuroo. Upon meeting his gaze, Kuroo felt his stomach drop-- the intensity in them, only somewhat dulled by the hangover, simmered like a pot about to boil over. And then reality caught up.

Coughing, Kuroo raised an eyebrow at him and asked “On a Monday morning?”

Bokuto shrugged. “Days don’t really matter much to me, unless my dad has me run errands for him.”

“Okay,” Kuroo decided on, gesturing with his folder, “ready to head up?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, following Kuroo around the corner. 

Bokuto looked around the office as they walked, eyes roving over every framed (fake) architectural sketch. Kuroo prayed he wasn’t looking too close at them, because he knew one of them in the hallway had a watermark from the site Oikawa had pulled it from.

( _ I’m not gonna pay for some shitty doodle no one is gonna look at, Kuroo.) _

Kuroo gave Bokuto a not-so-subtle once over. This close, Kuroo could smell a crisp citrus scent on him, with a musky cedar undertone. It wasn’t overpowering either-- his Instagram had prepared Kuroo for a man who didn’t know how to tastefully apply scented products.

He loosened his tie a bit, clearing his throat before asking “Is this an errand for your dad?”

“Huh?” Bokuto hadn’t been looking at him, mind seemingly elsewhere. “Oh, yeah. He’s kinda a busy guy so he sends me to do stuff like set up meetings.”

Kuroo huffed out a laugh, making sure to keep the pace leisurely as he could as they approached the stairs. “Well, I pretty much never see a man below the age of fifty walk in here. I’m thankful you have a busy father.”

“Oh?” 

“Mm-hmm,” Kuroo mumbled. They had made it to the stairs. “Not too many silver foxes either. Mostly old fat men."

“Well, at least you work with some hot guys,” Bokuto ventured, now watching Kuroo’s face carefully, “like the guy at the desk.”

Keenly aware that Iwaizumi is listening, Kuroo waved his hand. “He’s fine, I guess, if you like grumpy. He has a real stick up his ass and doesn’t know how to have fun--” Iwaizumi let out a betrayed hiss in his ear “--and I prefer a person who’s not afraid of fun.”

That seemed to spark something. “Really? I wouldn’t have pegged you as that kind of guy. You’re wearing a boring suit.”

_ Does this guy have no idea what people in offices wear? _

Kuroo fixed his face into what he hoped was a challenging expression, and said “I’m willing to bet there’s a lot you wouldn’t guess about me.”

Bokuto raised an eyebrow. “I love a good bet.”

“Do you? Go ahead and take a guess about something.”

Bokuto hummed, looking him over. “I bet you used to play a sport in high school.”

Kuroo scoffed. “Too broad. Make a specific guess.”

“Okay, okay,” Bokuto said, putting his hands up in a mock surrender, “uh, volleyball?”

Kuroo was genuinely surprised. It wasn’t the first sport that came to people’s minds when they thought of high school sports. “How’d you know?”

Bokuto puffed up, straightening his shoulders. “Lucky guess. And you’re tall.”

“Not bad. Did you play?”

“For my first year, but I had some stuff going on later.” Bokuto brushed off Kuroo’s look. “But my two best friends did, so I watched all their matches! Maybe I saw you at some point, though I bet I’d remember a face like yours.”

Kuroo laughed. “I’m not from around here, but thanks for the compliment.”

They were nearly at the door. “Can I make a guess about you?” Kuroo asked.

Bokuto nodded eagerly, pushing back a piece of hair off his forehead, and Kuroo swallowed hard. 

_ Okay, he’s cute even while visibly hungover. Too bad about the whole abduction thing. Maybe he could move past it after… no. That’s not just something to look past. _

“I guess you would like to go out on Friday night for a couple drinks.”

For a moment, Bokuto looked so pleased he could burst. But then looked truly sad when he said “It’s my friend’s birthday that night, and I was gonna go out with her and a few other people that night.”

Kuroo shrugged, not making eye contact and trying to look a little pitiful. “Oh, okay, no worries, dude.”

Bokuto made a strained noise before jamming a hand out. “Give me your phone. Text me and I’ll let you know the place and time.” He looked at Kuroo through his eyelashes. “I wanna see you again.”

Kuroo grinned and they were outside of Oikawa’s door. Kuroo dug his work phone out of his pocket and opened it to the keypad. Bokuto typed his number in quickly and passed it back to Kuroo with a happy, slightly goofy smile. “There you go, Personal Assistant-san.”

Kuroo laughed, a genuine laugh, and said “It’s Obara Yuuma.” 

The name felt surprisingly heavy on his tongue.

Something in Bokuto’s eyes flickered triumphantly. “Well it was very nice to meet you, Obara Yuuma."

“You too, Bokuto Koutarou,” Kuroo chuckled and knocked on Oikawa’s door. A muffled ‘come in’ floated through the door and earpiece. Kuroo opened the door, gesturing that Bokuto should go through. Oikawa stood to greet him with a bow and nodded to Kuroo, who closed the door as the two men sat down. 

Kuroo walked away into a side room, this one full of weapons, while he listened to Oikawa in his earpiece. 

"So, you're Bokuto Koutarou," Oikawa droned easily, shuffling papers on his desk. "I gotta say, the plan that your father sent over is expensive. It’s going to take a while to plan for. A forty story office building is going to be quite the endeavor."

"Forty? Phew," Bokuto sighed, "that  _ is _ a lot. Uh, I’m assuming you know more stuff about the plan than I do, and um, I can’t really talk business. Sorry if that’s what you needed to do, but I’m not the one who knows… stuff. But my dad is free on Friday?"

Oikawa made a surprised noise. "He doesn’t have any availability to meet before then?"

"Nope! He's a very busy guy," Bokuto said, not without a hint of pride, "which is why I'm here. I'm kinda his right hand man, meetings planning an’ such."

Oikawa chuckled. "I do love a father-son business. I ran this place with my father before he passed."

_ There's no way his father, who is very much still alive, would ever go into this business. What bullshit. _

"But," Oikawa continued, clicking on his keyboard, "tell your father that the original price has gone up. And if he wants to negotiate a better price, he can see me on Wednesday afternoon or evening himself, anywhere he wants. I do take house calls, if that’s better for him."

Bokuto sighed. "Okay, man. But just warning you he probably won't change the meeting."

There was a shuffle and a few footsteps before Bokuto asked "Um, Oikawa-san, can I ask something about your assistant?"

Oikawa paused before saying "I can do my best to answer it."

“This might be a long shot, but is he related to Minister Obara? I know that he has a son, but--”

Oikawa cut him off. "Yes, though I suggest you don't spread it around. The Minister wants to keep him quiet. Hence why he's at an architectural consulting firm, of all places."

Bokuto made a small sound of understanding and the footsteps resumed. "Do you need help finding your way down?" Oikawa asked.

"Nah, I'm okay," Bokuto said, "I got a good memory."

Oikawa hummed and they exchanged pleasantries before Kuroo heard the door open and shut, and heard Bokuto’s footsteps go down the stairs. Iwaizumi said goodbye to him as well, and when the doorbell dinged everyone seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. 

"Iwaizumi, Kuroo, Kozume, Kunimi, and Yahaba, my office, please," Oikawa commanded over the office intercom. 

Kuroo traipsed into Oikawa’s office, covering his eyes slightly. "Please, no pictures, no autographs of the newest upcoming star of the century, whose acting has inspired--"

"I do not have a stick up my ass," Iwaizumi growled, following Kuroo in. Kuroo shrugged, flinging himself into a chair. Iwaizumi sat next to him and flicked his head hard. "The guy was so clueless, so yeah, of course your shitty acting worked."

Oikawa laughed. "Now, now, Iwa-chan, don't be so mean to Kuroo. But Kuroo, did you really play volleyball?"

Kuroo nodded his head slowly, as Kenma, Kunimi, and Yahaba came in, shutting the door behind them. "I was capitan, baby.”

Oikawa nodded, scribbled something down, and faced them again. "So anyway, this Bokuto Hiroki wants to meet up possibly only hours before he wants the job done. I have no way of knowing when or where he wants it done, and most importantly no target, so we can't do any intel gathering beyond conjecture."

"If it's someone small, we could probably pull it off," Iwaizumi said, "how much is he offering?"

"500k," Oikawa muttered, "which is not a lot for a big hit. So you could be right. And we'd uphold our reputation."

Kenma made a small noise behind Kuroo, maybe of disapproval, but didn't say anything more.

"Do we want to continue on as if we're doing both operations then?" Iwaizumi asked. Oikawa hummed. 

"I suppose. Lev will be back by then, so I can send him and Kunimi--" who made a face "'-- to get Bokuto's guy, and Kuroo, Yahaba, and Iwaizumi to get the son. My, my, my," Oikawa said, spinning his chair slightly, "this is going to be an interesting night." 

After going over a few logistics, Oikawa adjourned the meeting, took the earpieces back, and pushed everyone but Iwaizumi out of his office. 

Kuroo was surprised when Kenma tugged his sleeve as Kunimi and Yahaba chattered on ahead of them. "Do you wanna go out to drinks tonight?" He asked quietly, glancing back at Oikawa’s door uneasily. 

"Uh. Sure!" Kuroo said, taken aback. It was very rare when Kenma suggested going out. And normally meant something was on his mind. 

The rest of the day passed in a blur. Inouka and Yamamoto killed some dealers. Oikawa chewed out Hanamaki for something, with little effect it seemed. Kuroo spent a whole hour looking up crime stats and realized how much crime there was in Tokyo, and they couldn't even take much credit for it. Just a few murders and the occasional abduction.

_ Tokyo is disgusting. Who would want to live here? _

And then it was bar time. Kenma and Kuroo always went to the same bar-- it was a small place where the drinks were good and the atmosphere was just loud enough to ensure they wouldn’t be overheard yet quiet enough to talk.

Kenma sat across the booth from Kuroo, stirring his gin and tonic idly with his pinkie. His brow was furrowed, deep in thought, while Kuroo prattled on about nothing in particular. Kuroo was in a good mood, the interaction with Bokuto revving him up a bit. It had been a weird day, sure, but he was starting to get excited about Friday. Upping the ante and all that.

Kenma cut Kuroo’s monologue off with a punctuated sigh. Kuroo snapped his mouth shut as Kenma sipped his drink. Placing it back on the table, Kenma spoke.

“I don’t like this mission and I think Oikawa isn’t seeing the whole picture.”

Kuroo took a gulp of his beer, waiting for Kenma to continue.

“This Bokuto Hiroki is a very shady guy. Not someone to mess with.”

Kuroo scoffed. “Everyone keeps saying stuff like that, like we’re not bad guys too.”

Kenma glared at him. Then continued. “I’m serious, Kuroo. This guy is bad news. His first wife, Bokuto Koutarou’s mother, disappeared after he was born. So did her sister. One of Hiroki’s closest friends and business partners was found in his locked office, shot from behind, after the two of them had a big argument. A business rival. A personal assistant. A cleaning staff member. A nosy journalist. This guy reeks of death, Kuroo, and he always seems to get away with it.”

Kuroo felt a knot tighten somewhere deep in his stomach, and he took another drink to attempt to loosen it. “So? He’s not the first guy we’ve been contacted by that has a spotty record.”

“There’s a spotty record,” Kenma whispered, “and there’s a serial killer. I doubt he killed them all himself, but…” he trailed off, lifting his glass to his lips, “just be careful. I think Oikawa and Iwaizumi are blinded by money and reputation right now.”

Kuroo lifted his drink to his lips too. He knew Oikawa would never intentionally put him in unnecessary danger, but if there was more to this Hiroki, then maybe he could tread a little more carefully.

“You listened to the Bokuto guy today on the cameras, right?” Kuroo asked. Kenma nodded. “Do you think he knows anything?”

Kenma shook his head firmly. “It seems like his father didn’t want to trust him yet, if ever, with this. Bokuto lacks the delicacy that’s needed at the moment, I bet.”

Kuroo nodded, and they finished their drinks in silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> school is suddenly so stressful wtf. hope you all are doing okay!
> 
> tumblr: goodgollywrites


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The night of the abduction has arrived.

The week passed quickly with no word from Bokuto Hiroki. Work was quiet. Kuroo was on desk duty, during which he had exchanged a few text messages with Bokuto Koutarou. Though he seemed busy and Kuroo didn’t want to be unprofessional either, so there was only enough flirting to keep him interested.

Friday when Kuroo entered the office Oikawa was at the front desk, apparently waiting for him.

“Morning, boss,” Kuroo said, “how can I help you?”

Oikawa sighed, drooping miserably. “The old man called. The hit is off.”

“Who?” Kuroo asked, dropping his bag behind the desk, “Bokuto Hiroki?”

“Yes,” Oikawa said with a pout, “said he wasn’t going to pay more for the job than he offered.”

“Well, at least Kunimi and Lev won’t have to work together. Kunimi will be happy.”

“I wanted them to work together. I’m mad at Kunimi, he’s been so moody lately.”

“Lately?” Kuroo snorted. “He’s always kinda moody when he’s not bored out of his mind.”

Oikawa shrugged. “I suppose. Anyway, how are you feeling about tonight?”

Kuroo grinned. “I’m feeling pretty good, actually. I think I got a handle on this guy. I don’t think this is gonna be hard.”

Oikawa beamed. “That’s good, Kuroo. We want a nice smooth kidnapping tonight.” He waved to Kuroo and went upstairs singing a tune from some drink commercial. Kuroo let his smile drop.

Kuroo was not feeling pretty good about this kidnapping.

The more Kuroo thought about the whole operation, and the more he thought about what Kenma said, the more the knot grew. There was a real possibility that the night could go well. And nothing bad would happen. In fact, it probably would go well, because Kuroo was really good at his job and there would be backup. 

And now that Hiroki had dropped his hit, he didn’t even need to think about him. Only his son.

Once he put on his desk uniform he felt his work phone buzz in his bag. Unlocking it, he saw a couple of texts.

_ Hey ;) _

_ ready to see u 2nte _

Kuroo chewed his lip.  _ That’s kinda sweet. _ He was surprised that Bokuto is up this early. He knew (since he watched his story, oops) he had been drinking with Akaashi in his apartment the night before. He posted a video of him and Akaashi dancing half naked to some song that was definitely not safe for work. 

He decided that it wouldn’t hurt to say hello.

_ Surprised you’re up so early _

The reply was quick.

_ dad wanted me to get something for him at 10 so i’m being a good son _

Kuroo laughed, imagining Bokuto’s half asleep state as he texted Kuroo.

_ Good job haha _

“What are you laughing about?” Yamamoto asked, reaching to pluck Kuroo’s phone out of his hand. Kuroo pulled away just out of reach, tsking at his junior.

“I’m working, excuse you,” Kuroo explained, “and what are you doing?”

“Waiting for Yahaba,” Yamamoto quipped, “he’s bringing me coffee.”

“Why didn’t he get some for me?” Kuroo asked, fake offended. “Bastard.”

Yamamoto pulled out his own phone. “Maybe if you weren’t so mean he’d buy you coffee too.”

Kuroo rolled his eyes and sniffed. “I’m not mean.”

“You’re a little mean.”

“I tease him, yeah. I’m not mean though.”

Yamamoto opened his mouth to reply when Kuroo’s phone buzzed and both their eyes snapped to it. “You gonna get that, Kuroo?”

“Not until you leave, so I can conduct my work in peace.”

_ Bzz. Bzz. _

“You sure? Your work sounds important.”

_ Bzz. _

“I’m sure.”

_ Bzz. _

Kuroo grabbed the phone and shoved it in his pocket. Yamamoto snorted when Kuroo stood. 

“I’m going to the bathroom, which is the only place I can apparently do my work in private,” Kuroo explained, leaving Yamamoto laughing behind him. 

Kuroo gritted his teeth as he locked the door behind him. Yamamato had no respect for networking.

_ yea he was kinda mad when i was late on monday lol _

_ but its cool now _

_ r u at work _ _   
_ _ sorry i’ll stop buthering u _

_ bothering  _

Kuroo couldn’t help it; he smiled. He imagined Bokuto, drinking some protein shake in his kitchen, waiting for his reply and texting him so earnestly.

Then the wave of guilt came crashing down. 

_ Yeah sorry, Oikawa has me doing a lot today. But I’ll see you tonight for sure _

In response he got a flurry of emojis that he hoped were positive, and left the bathroom.

That night, Kuroo was looking back at a man in the mirror he didn’t recognize. Somehow, Oikawa had managed to tame his hair to a presentable mass. His shirt was some silky button up that Iwaizumi had brought him, along with clean dark jeans and a black leather belt. On his ankle he had a small gun, and had some brass knuckles on the inside of his belt, just in case. He hoped it wouldn’t come to it, but he felt safer to be armed. 

He had opted for his own cologne this time, since he was pretty sure he was mildly allergic to Matsukawa’s.

After fastening the watch on his wrist, he strutted in front of his staff members. “What’d you think? Do I look like the bastard son of a minister?”

Inuoka gave him a thumbs up. “You definitely look like a bastard.”

This was met with laughter and jeers as Kuroo lunged at him, only to be yanked by Iwaizumi to sit. “Don’t fuck your shirt up, it cost a stupid amount.”

Kuroo slumped, choosing to flip off Inuoka instead as Oikawa turned on his projector. 

Kuroo whistled. “Oh so fancy, boss. Is that a PowerPoint or a Google Slide?”

Oikawa largely ignored him, besides a quick glare, before launching into the plan. “At 10:15, Iwaizumi and Yahaba will enter Area 28, and scope out the area. Once it’s clear, we’ll send Kuroo in. You two need to stay out of Bokuto’s sight, especially you Iwaizumi since he’s already seen you. Kuroo’ll get a few shots of tequila from the bar and join the birthday group. 

“Around 11:15, Kuroo will get Bokuto alone. Once you’re alone, and you’re sure he’s relaxed and trusts you, give him a drugged drink or something. Iwaizumi will help you get him to the van, which Yahaba and Kunimi will be in out front around that time. We’ll get him cuffed in the back and drive him to a secure area where the client will be waiting at around midnight. Then it’s out of our hands.”

Oikawa turned away from the board. “Questions?”

“Yeah, I got one,” Kuroo said, “does it have to be tequila?”

“Yes, and you are legally obligated to take a video of you doing a shot or you’re not getting paid.”

“What the hell, Oikawa,” Kuroo pouted, “I gotta be sober, don’t I?”

“You’re not gonna be shooting anyone with bullets so I’d rather you be shooting alcohol, actually,” Oikawa explained, “you’ve been a little tightly wound this week, Tetsu-chan. Can’t have you fuck this up by acting suspicious. Any other questions?”

Kuroo was stewing, but no one else seemed to have questions. Oikawa clapped his hands and shut off the projector. “Everyone else stays back here in case something bad happens. Commencing operation BKA28.”

When Kuroo was picturing the nightclub, he wasn't sure exactly what he was picturing, but this wasn’t it. The club wasn’t actually too far from the office, but it was leagues away from the clean and sleek bars and restaurants that surrounded it. It looked like it was essentially a cinderblock building with a glass door that was propped open. The sign above the door glowed pink and green, occasionally flickering. The bouncer outside looked extremely bored as he picked his nails. Iwaizumi and Yahaba had paid an insane amount to him already so their evening would be smoother. Hopefully.

Kuroo stood across the street, watching the entrance and smoking idly while pretending to mess around on his phone. Finally, he got a text from Iwaizumi.

_ Seems good, there’s a private area that Yahaba thinks he saw Bokuto in _

Kuroo grinned.  _ Showtime. _

The bouncer looked up as Kuroo approached. “Slow down, kid,” he grumbled.

Kuroo made a show of sighing, shoving his hands in his pocket. “I’m here with Suzumeda Kaori,” he said, “for her party.” He showed him a clearly fake ID. “I believe my acquaintances let you know I’d be coming by?”

The bouncer stared for a second. “Whatever man,” he muttered, “just don’t be a shithead.”

Kuroo laughed, and walked past him. The first thing that hit him was how sticky it was. Not just the floor, but the air even. He was almost able to feel the hairs of the nape of his neck start to curl. He started to look for the stairs, then remembered what Oikawa said. With a groan, he headed to the bar. 

The bartenders looked hurried, but a woman with an eyebrow piercing nodded to him as she shook a shaker over her head. He nodded back, and used the wait as an opportunity to look over the club. 

The dance floor was packed with young people dancing, most of them holding and spilling drinks carelessly over the people around them. The DJ seemed lost in the music, his eyes screwed up tight. The booths and tables around the fringes were also packed with drunks either making out or laughing loudly. In the back, people were milling about in and out of a hallway he assumed led to the bathrooms, and the emergency exit. Behind the bar was a set of stairs leading up to what looked to be private tables, based on the velvet rope at the bottom. He couldn’t say for sure, but he thought he might have seen a flash of silver up there. 

Not a lot of secluded areas here.

“What’ll you get?” The bartender yelled. 

Kuroo held up a finger and shouted “Tequila, please!”

She nodded and Kuroo put down 700 yen. She pocketed the cash and poured him a glass and passed him a lime wedge. 

He opened his phone camera and flipped it off before swallowing the shot with a scowl. 

_ God, what kind of demon chose to drink this willingly? _

After he sent the video to Oikawa, he sucked mournfully on his lime wedge, glancing up to see Bokuto’s silver head along with the rest of his body. He was with Suzumeda and Akaashi, swaying with them happily as he sang along to whatever song was playing. He looked so happy as his friends laughed next to him, Suzumeda just about falling over the railing as Bokuto kissed her cheek. 

This is why he hated kidnappings. Way too personal.

Which is why he didn’t consider approaching until he was two shots in. Tequila again, of course, because apparently he hated himself. The coffee he had for dinner wasn't going to be enough of a base, if he wasn’t careful.

By the time he was at the rope, after taking the second shot and finding where Iwaizumi and Yahaba were, he was very much Not Sober and possibly Buzzed. But it was all Oikawa’s fault so it was fine.

The man at the rope stopped him with a firm hand. “Sorry, buddy. Private party.”

“Yeah,” Kuroo nodded, perhaps too hard because he felt the world spin a bit, “I’m with Suzumeda. Obara Yuuma.”

The man rolled his eyes. “Get one of your friends to come get you. Do I look like I remember the names of everyone who’s allowed in?”

“Nah,” Kuroo answered truthfully, reaching for his phone to call Bokuto, “you don’t.”

He called Bokuto, realizing belatedly that he might not hear him, when he picked up. 

“ _ Yo, Obara-- Terushima, shut up-- how’s it going man? _ ”

“Good, good, but can you come let me up? I need a chaperone apparently.”

“ _ Ugh yeah, this guy is always a hardass. I was headed down to get more champagne anyway, I’ll getcha. _ ”

“Thanks bro.”

The man and Kuroo stood awkwardly for a minute, Kuroo gauging his sobriety carefully. It was fine at the moment, and so long as he didn’t drink a whole lot more before 11, he’d be sober enough to be sneaky at 11:15. Good.

“Obara!” 

Kuroo forced his slow brain to recognize this as his name, and he grinned at Bokuto. His silver hair was all mussed up, shirt untucked, and skin glazed with sweat. His amber eyes-- those damn eyes-- were shrouded under a haze of alcohol. And his smile was just the right mix of sleaze and joy.

“Bokuto!”

They paused for a second at the foot of the stairs, not sure what to do, before deciding on a quick hug. “Thanks for coming! Suzumeda always loves meeting new people.”

“She won’t mind that I’m crashing?” Kuroo asked, as they started working their way to the bar. Kuroo was hotly aware of Bokuto’s hand brushing against his hip.  _ Don’t be suspicious _ . Kuroo hooked a finger in Bokuto’s belt loop, squishing them together. 

Bokuto might have blushed before replying. “Nah, she wanted a bigger party, but Akaashi insisted on a private booth because he wants somewhere where he can nap once he gets tired.”

Kuroo laughed, letting go of his belt loop now that they were at the bar. The same bartender from before glanced at them. "Shots?”

“Yeah, Patrón, thanks,” Bokuto shouted. She nodded and held up a finger before turning back to her other customers. Kuroo raised his eyebrows as Bokuto turned back around. 

“I thought you said champagne?”

Bokuto just smiled, and grabbed Kuroo’s arm to pull him closer. “Changed my mind, I guess. You know what they say about tequila.”

Kuroo leaned closer to him happily. He was like a furnace, but not in a bad way. And his sweat was kinda sexy. He was just sort of a sexy guy all around.

“You wanna see my clothes fall off?” Kuroo purred around his ear.

Bokuto just shrugged, letting a hand ghost down Kuroo’s back.

Some drunk girl bumped into Kuroo, pushing him in further to Bokuto. He laughed, starting to pull away before Bokuto grabbed the back of his neck and pulled Kuroo in for a kiss.

Bokuto smelled so strongly of alcohol that it made Kuroo’s stomach turn a bit, but he met him halfway. He wasn’t gonna penalize this guy for being bold. And it had been a while since he'd kissed someone.

Kissing Bokuto was like kissing a summer storm-- he felt like he was being crushed by heat and humidity, sparks flying between them, unable to keep up with his hands, his lips, his tongue, _ his teeth _ \-- then Bokuto was thanking the bartender and pulling Kuroo behind him, shots of Patrón in balanced precariously on a tray his other hand, wearing a mischievous smile as he lead the way up the stairs. 

_ Impressive multitasking. Wonder how else he can multitask. _

There was a few minutes where Kuroo was doing everything he could to keep up with what was happening and had a little moment where he thought he fucked up when he nearly introduced himself as Kuroo. By some luck, the song switched to what is apparently Suzumeda’s favorite song because she screeched over Kuroo's voice, immediately grabbing Terushima to dance with her. Then they all took shots, which Kuroo imbibed in because  _ hey, when in Rome or whatever. _

The group of them danced together in a sweaty knot. Kuroo had his hands in the air, eyes closed and letting the alcohol burn in his system, as Bokuto held him from behind and grinded hard. Kuroo felt the space between them shrink exponentially as he leaned back and moved with Bokuto.

Bokuto was singing along to the song with surprising accuracy, considering it was in some reggaeton-pop song and was definitely not Japanese. Kuroo let his hands fall onto Bokuto’s and turned to face him. He leaned in to kiss him, and Bokuto happily complied.

It was hot and sticky and tasted like tequila and Kuroo didn't want to pull away even when he felt his lungs screaming to breathe.

“Fuck,” he gasped into Bokuto’s collar, causing Bokuto’s body to shudder under his lips.

Later, somehow he ended up half on Bokuto’s lap, playing with his hair while talking with Akaashi and another girl about a music group they all liked. He loved the way Bokuto’s hair felt under his fingers. Bokuto let his hand trail over Kuroo’s body freely, his chest humming against Kuroo’s back. He felt Bokuto’s fingers inching lower as Kuroo tugged his hair lightly.

In a moment of clarity, Kuroo glanced at his watch and saw it was just after eleven.

He tapped Bokuto on the shoulder, and shout-whispered into his ear “Wanna join me for a quick smoke break?”

Bokuto nodded, and made a big show of saying bye to all his friends. “I love you all!” He shouted, and leaned over to kiss Akaashi’s cheek for emphasis.

“Hey, where are you going?” Suzumeda asked, stumbling a bit and clutching onto Terushima for support. Bokuto snickered, grabbing Kuroo’s hand. “Smoke break!”

Suzumeda nodded dizzyingly. “Come back with more shots, please.”

Bokuto gave her a thumbs up, sliding his arm around Kuroo’s shoulders as they walked away. Kuroo almost felt bad, but this guy’s dad would probably pay up whatever ransom their client would ask for. And then he would go back to his life of drunkenness and irresponsibility soon after. Besides, it would probably inject some excitement into his typical Friday night routine.

The bartender with the piercing glanced up as they passed her. Kuroo stared back in a somewhat drunken state, but Bokuto kept moving. Belatedly, Kuroo realized he had no idea how he was gonna drug Bokuto, since they had no drink for Kuroo to pop a pill into.

While he mulled over his conundrum, Bokuto pulled him outside and around the side of the building. Kuroo’s ears were ringing from the music. When they stopped in front of a dumpster, Kuroo smiled at Bokuto, then faltered. 

Bokuto’s face was closed off, a different person than he’d been just thirty seconds earlier. Kuroo shook out a cigarette and offered the pack to Bokuto, who accepted it. Kuroo lit his, gesturing that Bokuto should come closer so he could light his too. Bokuto hesitated and flinched back when Kuroo flicked the lighter in the air between them

Frowning, Kuroo passed the lighter to him instead. “What’s up?” He asked, taking a pull. Maybe he could just hit Bokuto on the head. He was only a few centimeters taller than Kuroo.

Bokuto huffed out a half-laugh and lit his cigarette. “I don’t know, Obara, you tell me.”

Kuroo felt his face crinkle. “I can’t tell you what’s up with you.” 

He felt his pocket vibrate, and pulled out his phone. A text from Iwaizumi.

_ Where are you? _

Kuroo glanced over at Bokuto but the other man was focused on the wall across from them, letting his cigarette burn. Kuroo typed out a quick response.

_ in alley gonna hit him on the head. i was too drunk dumb to get a beer _

Bokuto turned to Kuroo as he turned his phone off. “Your ma checking up on you or something?” He asked.

“Something like that,” Kuroo said. Bokuto snorted, and flicked some ash.

“Dude, if you’re gonna kill me, make it quick.”

Kuroo felt his jaw pop open, the cigarette flopping to the ground to join the graveyard of other butts. “What the hell--”

“You’re a hitman, aren’t you?” Bokuto’s voice was sad but not resistant. “You’re here to kill me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See you all on Wednesday :) 
> 
> tumblr: goodgollywrites


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kuroo and Bokuto's night takes a turn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warnings: blood, vomiting, gun violence (not super graphic but just a warning for all)

Kuroo heard a pair of footsteps behind them and thanked whatever gods were watching him.  _ Maybe Iwaizumi would know what to do. _

There was a bang that richoched down the alley and Kuroo instinctively ducked, reaching for his gun on his ankle. He whipped out his pistol and scanned for the assailant. 

Did Bokuto have a bodyguard he hadn’t known about this entire evening? 

The bartender (who probably wasn’t really a bartender) with the eyebrow piercing was walking towards them, and Kuroo took aim at her leg. However, he was still kind of drunk and aiming was  _ hard _ . He thought about just going for it but that seemed like a stupid idea.  _ Someone could walk by and get hurt _ .

She shot again. Behind him, Kuroo heard Bokuto slump against the dumpster with a thump.

The woman sneered at Kuroo. “Packing, huh, street cat? What business do you have with that?”

_ What the fuck. What the fuck. What the FUCK. _

The woman tsked. “There wasn’t supposed to be anyone with you, Koutarou. You’re gonna make me look sloppy. Bossman won’t like that.”

Kuroo heard Bokuto exhale sharply, and glanced over to see Bokuto clutching his right shoulder. Darkness was seeping through his fingers and into the grey shirt around his hand. And Kuroo truly didn’t know what to do. His finger inched on the trigger, but she kept moving, as if she knew he wouldn't shoot. 

“You’re a pretty shitty killer,” Kuroo blurted, liquid courage taking control, “if you always run your mouth before making the hit. Makes you sound like a cheap supervillain.”

The woman rounded on him, pistol glinting. “And what you know about that, kitty?”

“More than you’d like me to, I’m sure.”

She scoffed. “I should have known. You’ve been pawing at him all night. What does that make you?” 

“A slut, I guess,” Kuroo admitted, “but I never needed to pull a trigger tonight.”

In an instant, a silhouette twisted the woman's arms behind her, sending her gun clattering to the ground. 

She yelled, cursing, as Iwaizumi slammed her into a wall. Kuroo scrambled up as she shouted someone’s name and a van came screeching to a stop outside the club. 

Yahaba jumped out, brandishing a gun at some unseen person outside the club around the side of the van door. 

There was a volley of gunfire, and Kuroo saw Yahaba duck just in time as a shot hit the edge of the door where his head had just been.

Iwaizumi was shouting as he struggled with the woman, who looked close to breaking his grip. Kunimi was shooting now too, and he could hear the music in the club had stopped and people were starting to come out of the side door a few meters away, some alarm blaring inside.

“Kuroo, go!” 

Kuroo snapped up at his name. Iwaizumi must have shouted it, right before the woman broke free and lunged for her gun. 

A bullet hit the ground next to her gun, close to her hand, and Kuroo realized he must have fired it because she glared at him with a burning hatred. 

Kuroo heard Iwaizumi shout his name again and he turned to leave with the crowd that was pouring down the alley when he stumbled over something.

Bokuto was still crouched on the ground, face pale as he stared disbelievingly at the scene around him.

It was a split second decision, maybe a really foolish one, but Kuroo grabbed Bokuto’s bloodied hand and yanked.

“Stay with me!” Kuroo shouted in his face, adrenaline sharpening his mind against the tequila. He felt two bullets whiz past him as he hauled Bokuto up, one grazing his cheek and the other flying just over his head. He tucked his own gun away in his pocket, ignoring Iwaizumi’s voice in his head telling him he'd end up with a bullet in his ass. The actual Iwaizumi was somewhere behind him, swearing loudly as he struggled to keep the bartender away from her gun. 

By some show of superhuman strength, Kuroo managed to pull Bokuto’s essentially deadweight into the fray of panicked patrons. 

He was disoriented, simply following the mass as they ran onto some street and everyone split. People from other nearby bars and clubs had also joined in the escape, flooding the street with anxious and confused faces. 

Kuroo didn’t know the way to any metro station and was about to just start going in some direction when Bokuto tugged his arm.

“Station, over there,” he panted, then lurched to throw up on some streetlight. Bokuto waited until his retching subsided until he pointed down the street to the left. “Three blocks.” Kuroo nodded, pulling his gun from the pocket to strap to his ankle as Bokuto lurched over again. 

When they were both done, they set off at a jog. In the distance, sirens howled and they saw the flash of lights between some buildings.

The last thing Kuroo wanted to do was run into cops at the moment, so he sped up a bit.

The station was packed. Kuroo briefly paused at the map of the lines once they swiped through the turnstile. 

This station was on the Hibaya line, and he needed to get on the Tozai line. _An easy change at the Kayabacho station._ _You’re a lucky bastard, Tetsurou._

Still, Kuroo kept looking over his shoulder, feeling like they had been followed. It was pretty impossible to tell in the crowd, but he told himself it was just his nerves.

He went to tug Bokuto down the stairs to the train he needed to go on, but the other man was unmoving.

“Dude, come on,” he barked, “train’s gonna be here any second.”

Bokuto resisted, staring at his red hand in Kuroo’s now also red hand. “Who are you?” He finally asked.

Kuroo heard the thrum of a train in the tunnel. “What does it matter who I am? I saved your fucking life.”

Bokuto stood still, tears welling up in his eyes. “Who are you.” He repeated, ripping out of Kuroo’s hand to clutch his shoulder. 

Kuroo huffed. Why did he even care about this rich kid? He was just some assignment that had failed. He’d done more than enough for him already.

Still, seeing him standing there with tears leaking down his face and his shoulder stained red, shaking from shock, a smear of vomit on his chest, Kuroo felt a pang in his chest. 

“I’m Kuroo Tetsurou. I’m a contract killer. I was hired to abduct you tonight by some guy who was gonna put you up for ransom. I live alone in an apartment where I plan on taking you so you can stay safe until my boss figures something out. Please come with me. I want to help you, for some reason.”

Bokuto shuddered. The train rolled into the station. Kuroo held his breath. He could hear people all around them whispering about the blood on their clothes and the gunshots.

Bokuto grabbed Kuroo’s hand and they flew down the stairs, sliding into the train just as the doors shut. 

Kuroo managed to find a couple of seats that were unoccupied, and wrapped an arm around Bokuto. The man was shaking, but some color was returning to his face. Still, Kuroo worried about blood loss. 

How ironic it was that Kuroo was worried about some guy he’d been tasked with abducting.

Kuroo peeled off his shirt and passed it to Bokuto. He gave Kuroo a watery smile, and pressed the cloth to his shoulder.

“How do you feel?” Kuroo asked lowly.

Bokuto raised his eyebrow. “Actually, pretty okay. But I bet that’s mostly the alcohol and adrenaline.”

Kuroo snorted. “I got someone who can help us. He lives a few buildings down from me.”

Bokuto nodded and they lapsed into silence. Admittedly, Kuroo wasn’t sure what would be a good topic to talk about. This was not a situation he’s ever been in, nor one that he’d been trained to deal with.

“Sorry for lying to you,” Kuroo decided, “and for conspiring to abduct you. You’re worth quite a bit, if you’re curious.”

Bokuto glared at him for a half second before cracking a grin. “How much?”

“My cut would have been 400k, and I was taking about a fourth,” Kuroo shrugged, “which isn’t bad for an abduction.”

Bokuto nodded, probably not having any frame of reference. “Cool.”

Someone nearby gave Kuroo the side-eye, and scooted away. Right. This was a train full of people. He probably shouldn’t talk about his criminal exploits so casually.

As he started to calm down, Kuroo started to recall the events of the night. He thought about Yahaba, Iwaizumi, and Kunimi. He felt his chest ache-- what if something happened to them? What was he supposed to do if they didn’t come out of this alright? He also knew he was probably out of a job, but that was only a partially forming concern in his mind. 

Kuroo let his head hang and he slumped to rest his elbows on his thighs. 

_ Shouldn’t have gotten yourself kicked out, Tetsurou. You could have been a microbiologist. _

The rest of the ride was fairly quiet. They switched trains easily, getting really weird looks for Kuroo’s half-naked state and the blood on both of them, but this just earned them a large berth and a couple of open seats on the train.

Kuroo checked his work phone when they got back above ground. Worryingly, there were no messages. Not even from Kenma. He hoped no one was trying to reach his personal phone, since that was still in his locker at work. 

Regardless, he tried to push it from his mind as they made their way to Suga’s home. Kuroo pressed his contact and prayed that he had his phone on.

“H’lo,” a groggy voice answered. 

“Hey, Suga. Sorry to wake you up,” Kuroo said, not feeling too sorry. Suga had woken him up plenty while in uni.

Suga sighed. “It’s fine, what’s up?”

“I got a patient for you.”

“Kuroo, no,” Suga groaned, “I’m not in the mood for sewing up your hand again. It’s your fault if you get tetanus from jumping a fence. Go to a hospital.”

“That’s not really an option, and how do you feel about gunshot?”

Silence.

“Suga? You still there?”

“I obviously am. What the hell did you do?”

“I was on a date and he got shot. Kinda.”

“He kinda got shot or was it a kinda date?”

Kuroo glanced at Bokuto. “He definitely got shot, and the date wasn’t really a date. I’ll explain when we get there in like ten?”

“You’re so lucky I love you, Tetsurou.”

“And you’re the best.”

He hung up and turned to Bokuto. “Dr. Sugawara is able to squeeze us into his schedule. How’s your arm feel?”

Bokuto shifted his hand, which was still applying pressure, and winced. “Great,” he said through clenched teeth, “and did you really call this a date?”

Kuroo wagged a finger. “I said a date,  _ kinda _ . It was pretty romantic for a few moments there.”

“Yeah,” Bokuto mused, “like when you were rubbing your ass on my dick while we were dancing to  _ Qué Chimba _ .”

Kuroo made a mock offended sound. “Excuse me, sir, but I think it was you who was rubbing your dick on my ass.”

Bokuto thundered out a laugh, stopping quickly with a hiss. Still, he kept the smile. “But in all realness, you’re not a bad kisser.”

“Thanks,” Kuroo smirked, “you’re hard to keep up with.”

“I know. I like it that way.”

“Oho?”

“Yeah!” Bokuto crowed. “Helps me pick out people who can keep up with me in general.”

“Did I pass, then?” Kuroo asked. Bokuto screwed up his face.

“You tried to abduct me. I still don’t like you.”

Kuroo sighed. “You have a point. But I needed the money. And I don’t have a lot of marketable skills.”

“Not even for, like, a waiter?”

“When you know of a waiter job that pays as much as abducting a rich kid, let me know.”

Bokuto seemed to accept this with a huff. He pulled Kuroo's shirt away from his shoulder with a grimace. "Gross."

"Suga's house is close," Kuroo assured him, “just a few more blocks.”

Bokuto groaned in response.

Kuroo turned to the other man. "I'm really sorry you got shot," he said dumbly. 

Bokuto snorted. "It's not like you were the one who shot me. Besides, this kinda thing… I dunno. I'm used to it."

"You're used to getting shot at," Kuroo repeated. "What kind of life do you live?"

“A very weird one,” Bokuto admitted, “but it has its perks.”

Kuroo frowned. “Okay. Cryptic.”

Bokuto just smiled at him. 

Kuroo thought about prying more when his phone chimed in his pocket.

_ ~kenmaaa~ _

_ Get rid of this phone and watch right now . i and y arrested, k in icu, the woman who shot you ran but rest were arrested. tell b to get rid of his phone. o will contact in a few days. lay low _

_ and please stay safe _

Kuroo gulped, and looked around. There wasn’t any water to throw their phones in, so they’d just have to smash them on the ground.

He stuck his hand out to Bokuto. “We gotta get rid of your phone, man.”

Bokuto seemed to accept this fairly quickly, stopping in the street and patting down his pockets. “Uh, I don’t think I have it.”

Kuroo narrowed his eyes and stopped too. “You better not be lying. This is serious. We can’t give anyone any way to track us.”

“I am serious,” Bokuto squawked, “I think I left it on the table in the club.”

Kuroo thought back, though a little fuzzily. Bokuto hadn’t pulled out his phone in the alley, and there had been a few phones on the table when they left to smoke. One of them might have been Bokuto’s.

“Look, man,” Bokuto whispered, “if I had my phone I would have called Akaashi or Teru or Suzu the second we got out of the metro. I’m worried about them.”

Kuroo sighed but nodded. “Okay, yeah. Sorry.” He unclasped his watch. “I bet they’re okay though, if it helps. I don’t think there were any shots inside the club.”

Kuroo pulled out his work phone and stared at it. It had been through a lot with him in the year and half he’d had it. And he might have grown a little sentimental.

He scowled and threw it in the ground, shattering the screen. He stomped on it a few times, and repeated the actions with his watch. Scooping up the pieces, he threw them into someone’s trash can. 

“Kenma says the bartender got away,” Kuroo reported and continued walking, “but everyone else was arrested. Or in the hospital.”

“Who’s Kenma?” Bokuto asked. 

“A coworker,” Kuroo answered, then grinned. “He’s the one who introduced me to Oikawa, actually. Right after I got kicked out of university.”

“What’s you get kicked out for? Assassinating your professor?” Bokuto joked.

“Nah,” Kuroo said, “I was selling my essays and tests.”

Bokuto whistled. “So you’ve always been a bad boy.”

Kuroo saw Bokuto wince out of the corner of his eye. He clamped his jaw, gritting his teeth as he shifted his arm.

Kuroo wasn’t sure what to do with Bokuto, now that they were walking together and the feeling of immediate danger had worn off. They’d have to stay in his tiny apartment for who knows how long and he wasn’t keen on sharing that space with anyone for a long period of time, much less a past assignment who someone wanted dead. It was like having a target on his own back. 

Also, why had he thought that Kuroo was going to kill him? It was kind of a big assumption to make about someone. And it was a lot less likely that the assumption may have been correct, under only slightly different circumstances. 

Still, he figured maybe now wasn’t the time to ask questions. He was clearly in pain and somewhat shocked, since he was taking this whole thing pretty well considering what he’d been through. The other man was looking more ragged now, face pale and breathing a little labored. Though his bleeding looked to have stopped, he looked exhausted. Kuroo was tired too, though he was sure that Bokuto could probably sleep on the spot.

“Not long now,” Kuroo assured Bokuto, who nodded weakly in response. Kuroo offered an arm for him to hold onto, which Bokuto accepted meekly. They passed another block of houses with lights shut off, though in the distance he could hear laughter and music. 

Kuroo’s street was a quiet one, a few blocks off from any main roads which was annoying when he needed to get groceries or go out, but now he was thankful for it. He at least felt safe walking here in the open, feeling confident that no one was watching them at this hour. 

“Hey, bro,” Bokuto mumbled, “why did you bring me with you?”

Kuroo shrugged. “I don’t know. Why leave you there to die? Kinda a fucked up way to go.”

“You’re a hitman! You haven’t murked someone in an alley before?”

“Well,” Kuroo frowned, “I guess once or twice. Only if they were a real piece of shit, though.”

Bokuto stared at him for a moment before shaking his head. “You’re weird, man.”

“Okay, anyway,” Kuroo said quickly, wanting to move on, “so Suga is a medical student at a nearby university. He’s a really good friend of mine, and he won’t tell anyone we were there. I don’t know if his roommates are there, but they won’t either. Just don’t mention the whole ‘hitman’ thing. It’s a little sensitive.”

The lights were on as they approached Suga’s house, and Kuroo saw someone inside shutting a blind. Kuroo rapped on the door quietly, glancing around while they waited. 

Bokuto leaned heavily on Kuroo, eyes closed. Kuroo looked down at him and felt his heart tighten involuntarily. However briefly he had known him, Kuroo didn’t like seeing this man so defeated. It was as if the night had beaten him down and completely transformed him from the bright person he’d seen with his friends only a few hours before. And yeah, Kuroo was definitely partially responsible for it, he wasn’t gonna deny that. But he was really doing his best to come back from that.

_ Guilt? Is that why I’m doing this? That makes sense. Yeah, I’m guilty. Sure. _

The door opened and revealed a disheveled Suga, who sighed deeply as he looked them up and down.

“I hoped I would never see you shirtless and covered in blood again, Kuroo. But come in.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I call this "I take a few creative liberties with the amount of luck and convenience Kuroo has" but I hope that this chapter finds you all happy and healthy!
> 
> I edited this while in my Zoom class so I'm sorry if I missed something.
> 
> EDIT 5/8/20: changed a few details about the stations and such. I can't read maps and it was going to bother me if I didn't change it


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kuroo and Bokuto get fixed up, new information arises, and a decision is made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: non-graphic medical procedures, needles mentioned (lmk if this is incomplete/needs more warnings for others)

The kitchen was a tight squeeze for five people, but they managed. While Suga was setting out his instruments on the table, Daichi and Kiyoko were helping Kuroo and Bokuto clean up the excess blood at the sink.

“So,” Suga started, flicking a flashlight on and off, “Bokuto, why the hell did you agree to go out with Kuroo?”

Daichi wiped Kuroo’s jaw, carefully not touching around the cut on his cheek. “Is it only your cheek and Bokuto’s shoulder?”

Kuroo nodded. “Yeah, I think so. And you of all people should know I’m a plenty charming man, Suga.”

“I sleep with you one time,” Suga groaned, “and I suffer for the rest of my life because of it.” He smiled teasingly and patted the chair for Kuroo to sit in front of him, before snapping on gloves.

Kuroo sat, bracing for Suga’s cold fingers on his cheek. “It was probably one of the best nights of your life, quit complaining,” Kuroo grumbled, flinching as Suga wiped away gently at the cut.

“Obviously not. You’re insufferable,” Suga snorted.

Kuroo smirked as Suga pulled away. “Maybe my personality is bad, but that wasn’t the star of the show that night.”

Kiyoko helped Bokuto sit down in one of the other chairs, passing him a glass of water and a few pain pills. “Take these, Bokuto-san. Koushi can numb you, but this will make you comfortable for now.”

Bokuto stared at the pills suspiciously. “Uh, no offense, but I don’t normally take pills given to me by strangers unless I know what they are. Or they look like acid or something.”

Kiyoko smiled reassuringly. “No offense taken, especially after all you’ve been through. I don’t blame you. You’re free to take them at any point you want, but don’t feel you need to.”

“Can I have one?” Kuroo asked, with Kiyoko nodding and passing one to him. Suga pulled back for Kuroo to take the pill, grabbing some butterfly bandages.

“It’s not too deep, actually,” Suga said, “so you get to miss stitches. But I still might give them to you for waking me up.”

“Wow, you’re such a nice, ethical doctor,” Kuroo droned, hissing as Suga pressed a little harder than he needed as he continued cleaning.

“Sorry,” Suga simpered, though his touch did soften after that. 

Bokuto watched Suga closely as he worked on Kuroo’s face. “How do you all know Kuroo?”

“Roommates,” Kuroo and Suga said simultaneously, and Suga continued with “Kuroo met Daichi in chem lab and I met Shimizu in a study group. The four of us hung out a lot for the one year we were all in classes.”

“And we still hang out plenty now,” Kuroo muttered defensively, “when work’s not busy.”

Daichi laughed. “But there’s always work to do, isn’t there?”

Bokuto looked between the group. “Do you, uh, talk about work…?”

“We don’t ask questions about his work,” Kiyoko said simply, “and Kuroo doesn’t tell us. We find that’s best for all of us. Besides, Kuroo has promised to find a new job soon.” With the final sentence, she stared hard at Kuroo.

“Should I assume you two met at Kuroo’s work?” Suga asked. Kuroo glanced at Bokuto, giving a half nod.

“Yeah, we did,” Kuroo responded, “though I did stalk his Instagram before we met.”

“You did?” Bokuto furrowed his eyebrows. “In a creepy way? Or in a thirsty way?”

“I mean,” Kuroo said, grinning flirtatiously around Suga, “it was for work, but you have quite the profile, bro.”

“Are you seriously flirting with him after whatever mess you got him into?” Suga asked incredulously. This made everyone relax into giggles, including Bokuto. 

Much to Kuroo’s relief.

Suga cleaned and butterflied Kuroo’s cheek shut as the conversation flowed easier. Kuroo wasn’t mad when Daichi made fun of him for something dumb he did in college (“I mean, who offers to smoke weed with his RA while he’s on duty?”) because it made Bokuto’s face light up. He also saw Bokuto take the pills Kiyoko offered him, apparently seeing that Kuroo hadn’t passed out. 

Kiyoko made them all tea, which Kuroo took gratefully as Suga taped gauze over his cheek. “Thank you, Suga,” he said, “I owe you.” He stood up and joined Daichi and Kiyoko standing by the counter.

Suga snorted, pulling off his gloves. “You always owe me for something, Tetsurou. Someday I’ll cash in all those favors. But you’re welcome.”

He turned to Bokuto, smiling kindly. “Just let me know when you’re ready. You can finish your tea first, if you like.” Suga reached for his own tea, smacking his lips after the first sip.

“Delicious as always, Shimizu,” Suga crooned, tipping his head back to look at her. “What would we do without our resident tea master?”

Kiyoko hummed, resting her head on Daichi’s shoulder. “You’d probably manage just fine.”

“Bzz!” Suga made a buzzer noise. “Wrong, we’d be suffering in more ways than one.”

Daichi rubbed her shoulder in agreement then glanced at the microwave’s clock. “It’s nearly two. Don’t you have an interview tomorrow, Shimizu?”

She nodded, picking her head off Daichi. “I didn’t realize how late it was.” She kissed him sweetly before placing her glass in the sink. “It was nice to meet you, Bokuto-san. And don’t be a stranger, Kuroo. There’s more to life than work.”

“Well after tonight, I’m not sure I even still have a job,” Kuroo replied dryly. Kiyoko laughed, and leaned down to kiss Suga.

Daichi tried and failed to look sorry for him. “Tough. But hey, more time to spend with us.”

Kiyoko waved to them all. “I’m gonna sleep in the extra room, so don’t worry about being quiet when coming to bed,” she told Suga and Daichi, who nodded. Kuroo waved back to her and Bokuto smiled widely.

As she disappeared upstairs, footsteps fading, Bokuto drank the rest of his tea. “Suga, I think I might need something stronger, if you got something.”

“I do!” Suga pulled his kit closer and started digging through a couple of bottles. He pulled out one of them and let Bokuto look at it. “It’ll work quickest, but I’ll have to use a syringe. Is that okay?”

“Hmm? Oh, needles don’t bother me,” Bokuto looked up from the bottle. “I have no clue what this is, so I’m just gonna trust you, I guess.”

“It’s a local anesthetic. I stole it from my hospital I intern at,” Suga explained, as if that meant Bokuto was right to trust him. Bokuto looked again and nodded, passing it back to him.

Suga pulled on a new set of gloves and grabbed a new syringe. “I’ll help you cut off the shirt, come take a seat.”

At this, Bokuto blanched a bit. “Oh, right, right.”

He glanced around at the group nervously. Kuroo frowned. “You okay, dude?”

Bokuto nodded, and stood up. “Okay,” Bokuto blurted, “I’m trans.”

There was a brief pause before Daichi cleared his throat. “I am too,” he said gently, “ You’re in safe company. Do you have a binder on, or…?”

Bokuto sighed, grinning. “Oh, cool cool. Thanks. And no, I just have scars. Sorry, I didn’t know how--” he gestured at his chest. “Yeah, just wanted to be sure.”

“No worries, bro,” Kuroo assured him. Bokuto might have smiled and blushed, but Suga moved to start cutting his shirt and effectively blocked Kuroo’s view of his face.

As the scissors snipped and Bokuto’s ruined shirt pieces fell to the floor, Daichi’s gloved hand grabbed it and stuffed it in a bag with Kuroo’s shirt, then shucked the gloves off. “Do you need me to hold the light, Suga?”

Suga nodded, and started measuring the anesthetic carefully. He grabbed a swab and wiped off part of Bokuto’s shoulder before lifting the syringe. “Ready?”

Bokuto nodded, and Suga continued. Kuroo had to look away-- needles were too unnerving. He just couldn’t stand to look at them, which is something his coworkers teased him about as soon as they found out.

( _ “You’re an assassin, Kuroo. You shoot people with things much larger than needles.” _ )

When he heard the needle’s tinny ‘clink’ on the plastic dish Kuroo looked back. Suga was pulling out more swabs and antiseptic while Bokuto strained to look at his shoulder. “How quickly does this set in?” He asked. Suga shrugged.

“A minute, probably. Let me know when it feels numb enough for me to touch.”

Bokuto flexed his arm lightly, grimacing. “It still hurts, but you can start now.”

Suga started to wipe off his shoulder and the room fell silent as he worked. Kuroo found himself watching Bokuto as Suga fixed his shoulder. He looked peaceful, either looking at Suga or staring at a wall across from him, humming quietly. Kuroo bit back a smile when he recognized it as the song they had danced to earlier in the night. Bokuto saw him and winked, only breaking eye contact as Suga picked up a scalpel.

“It looks like there’s a full bullet in there, though I can’t tell for sure until I cut you open,” Suga explained, “and the shot managed to miss your subclavian artery, which is extremely good news. You won’t bleed out when I take it out of you, hopefully. And really, you didn’t bleed as much as someone else might have. Kuroo’s luck must have rubbed off on you.”

Suga smiled at him dazzlingly. “A miracle if I ever saw one.”

Bokuto smiled back, admittedly less dazzlingly. “I’ve never really been much of a bleeder.”

The rest of the procedure, while somewhat sickening to watch, was over quickly enough. The bullet was fully intact as far as any of them could tell, and after a dozen stitches and a clean bandage and very thorough instructions on what to do and not to do, Suga deemed Bokuto fit to go. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay here?” Daichi asked worriedly. 

“We can go sleep with Shimizu in the extra room and you can take our bed,” Suga offered.

Bokuto shook his head. “I’m fine with Kuroo’s place. He said it’s just down the street, yeah?”

“Well, yes, alright,” Suga mumbled, grabbing another box of bandages and shoving them at Kuroo. “You know where to find us. And if I don’t see you in three days I’ll come visit. Make sure you change them daily, Bokuto. And keep taking the antibiotics. And if it starts looking infected--”

“I’ll get you, Suga,” Kuroo assured him. Still, Daichi bit his lip.

“Will you both be safe?” He asked in a hushed tone. “I can walk you there at least.”

Kuroo leveled him with a stare. “We’ll be fine, Dad. I have my brass knuckles still, and it’s only like a hundred meters. I don’t have a phone so I can’t call, but I’ll flicker my lights when we get up there.”

This seemed to appease Daichi as Kuroo undid his belt and slipped on the brass knuckles. “Everytime we get one of these visits from you, Kuroo,” he said with a chuckle, “I always have another question to ask you.”

“Maybe someday I’ll have answers.” Kuroo winked and reached for the front door. Bokuto, who had been picking at his nails nervously, turned to Daichi and Suga. 

“Can I ask for one more favor?”

Daichi nodded. “Ask away.”

“Can you get in touch with a man for me? I’ll give you his number. Just tell him I’m safe or something. I don’t want to get him in trouble too.” Bokuto deflated sadly. “I hope he's not in trouble already.”

“We can try,” Daichi said firmly, pulling out his cell. “What’s the number?”

Bokuto told him, then said “Also, this is totally not something I’m expecting to happen, but do either of you know how I could somehow get some T? I’m due for a shot tomorrow-- today, I guess-- and I want to have some sense of my life not being a shitshow.”

Suga put up a finger. “I think we have an extra bottle somewhere, don’t we?” Suga asked Daichi. Daichi disappeared upstairs for a minute, reappearing with a vial. Bokuto took it, examining the label. 

“Are you sure?” He asked. Daichi nodded. 

“Suga’s a great partner, and he’s more than happy to steal me more if I need it. Which, at the moment, I don’t.”

Bokuto squinted at it again, then nodded. “Thanks, guys.”

Suga scuttled into the kitchen, coming back with a handful of sealed syringes. “I don’t know how many you need, but these are easy for me to get so go ahead and take them. If you need more I’ll get them to you.”

With hands full of medical supplies, Bokuto and Kuroo headed across the street to Kuroo’s apartment. It was a squat, older building, only three stories tall. Kuroo lived on the second floor in one of the apartments that was right across from the elevator, which was mostly convenient unless people decided to have sex in the elevator. 

Once inside, Kuroo kept his word and flicked his lights on and off for Suga and Daichi before dumping the boxes of bandages and bottle of antiseptic on the counter. 

“Welcome to my home,” Kuroo said with a flourish, sweeping his hand over the messy, cramped apartment, “though I guess it’s your home now too.”

Bokuto looked around with an almost mournful expression. “I guess so.”

Kuroo rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m really sorry how this night ended up. If I had been better at my job, this wouldn’t have happened. You’d probably be unwounded in some safe location, with your father already on his way to meet the client.”

Bokuto laughed dully. “I don’t mind. I don’t really want to see him tonight, and I don’t think he’d want to see me either.”

Kuroo jerked his head up to stare at Bokuto.“What’s that supposed to mean?” He asked. 

Bokuto seemed to struggle for a moment, as if unsure how to continue. “I knew the office wasn't an archeology firm,” he finally admitted.

“Architectural firm,” Kuroo corrected, shaking his head, “but how did you know that? And what does that have to do with your dad?”

Bokuto sat down on the floor. “Okay, so, my dad is kinda not my biggest fan. He’s never trusted me with anything to do with the company, so I was suss when he asked for me to set up a meeting. I looked you guys up and your reviews were kinda weird. You have kind of a shit rating and I knew my dad would only hire really good people for building projects. So I asked him about it.”

The reviews were all fake, written by various members of the group, and were carefully rated to give them a slightly lower than average rating to not bring attention to themselves by drawing in actual customers. A pretty good tactic, until now apparently.

“He basically said if I wanted to have a bigger role in the company I wouldn’t bother him any more,” Bokuto said, “so I dropped it. But then I started thinking after I got back from the meeting. I’m not, like, a mastermind but one of the pictures of a building had a watermark on it. And  _ then _ on the way downstairs I peeked through a door and it had like, a cork board with some guy’s picture on with a map and some other bits of paper on it. I got freaked out and hauled ass, and I kinda took guesses after that. Pretty cool that I ended up being right.”

_ I knew that fucking watermark was gonna be a problem someday. _

“Also, I can’t prove it, but I think my dad has definitely tried to kill me before.”

Kuroo felt his eyes widen. “What the fuck.”

Bokuto half-shrugged with an air of acceptance. “I’m a liability. I don’t care about the business, my dad’s image, and I think I stopped being valuable to him once I started my transition since he didn’t want to have me marry Akaashi anymore like planned. So there have been quite a few times when I’ve been in pretty dangerous situations that I think he planned, or at least didn’t stop from happening. And I’ve sort of gotten used to it.” 

_ Oh fuck. Hiroki wanted us to kill his son. What the fuck. _

He looked up, and laughed at Kuroo’s horror-struck face. “I’m fine, bro! If I have to avoid assassination attempts every now and then and I get to keep my lifestyle, I’m honestly okay with it. My dad hardly hires the best to kill me, so most of the time I get away without getting hurt.”

Kuroo was still reeling a bit. “Your dad straight up sucks,” he managed to croak out. Bokuto snorted. 

“Yeah, he does. So I was actually planning on stabbing you in the alley before that lady showed up, since I figured you were gonna kill me.”

Kuroo smirked. “I doubt you could have pulled it off. I like my body unstabbed.” He paused, frowning. “If you thought I was gonna kill you, why even let me go out with you?”

“It was a calculated risk,” Bokuto said, nodding sagely. “Also I was horny. You’re pretty hot so I just figured it would be worth it even if I did get a little banged up.” He paused, then laughed. “I mean, that’s normally what I want anyway.”

Kuroo blinked dumbly at him. “Do you have any self-preservation?”

“I like having fun,” he said, as if that answered the question.

_ Why is he so damn chill with this? _

“Aight,” Kuroo croaked. This was a lot of information to take in, and he could feel that the hour was starting to catch up with him. It was very late (or very early) and even though he didn’t have anything to do tomorrow, he also didn’t want to sleep the whole day away.

Bokuto was also starting to fade. His eyes were drifting shut while still sitting up and his back was hunched. 

“Hey,” Kuroo said gently, tapping Bokuto’s un-bandaged shoulder, “I’ll set the bed up for you. You need sleep.”

Bokuto nodded and struggled to stand before taking Kuroo’s hand. “Thanks, bro. Uh, where’s your bathroom? I gotta piss.”

Kuroo pointed past the counter. “Through the kitchen. I think there’s a spare toothbrush under the sink, if you want.”

Bokuto mumbled his thanks as Kuroo pulled out his futon. When Bokuto closed the door behind him, Kuroo let himself exhale a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. 

This, for some reason, was way harder than he thought it would be.

All the rest was honestly not as jarring after the initial shock. Not even the whole bomb Bokuto had dropped about his dad-- which definitely complicated things-- was too much to absorb at face value. But he had been counting on a solid night sleep at the end of it all. And now he was going to share the bed with a relative stranger that he hadn’t had sex with, so this was new territory for him. And it was honestly really difficult to accept.

_ Why are you wanting to cry now? This is not a big deal,  _ Kuroo scolded himself. 

Yet he felt tears spring into his eyes as the whole night came crashing down on him. His colleagues were hurt and arrested, he was out of a job, had no way to contact any of his friends, he had been shot, and he was maybe going to be killed in his sleep by some crazy assassin that was still out there. On top of all that, he wouldn’t even be able to sleep in his bed alone tonight.

The tears are rolling freely down his face now, hand clamped over his mouth to keep Bokuto from hearing him. 

_ Okay, get it together. You’re fine. It’s just a bed. _

“Kuroo?”

Kuroo jumped.

“Yeah?” Kuroo rasped, wiping hurriedly at his eyes with rough palms. He felt his contact pop out, landing somewhere on the futon in front of him. He started patting, still trying to keep his face away from Bokuto.

“Are you okay?” Bokuto asked, with a hint of worry that shot through Kuroo like an arrow.

“Totally, bro,” Kuroo bluffed, “my eyes were just dry, and I rubbed them like a dumbass. Lost my contact.”

“Right.” He didn’t sound convinced.

Kuroo felt the contact under his finger and picked it up triumphantly. “There we go. You done in the bathroom?”

Bokuto hummed in assent and Kuroo nodded. “Awesome. Well then go ahead and get comfortable. I’ll be quick.”

Still keeping his face angled away from Bokuto, Kuroo brushed past him into the bathroom. Once alone, he took a steadying breath. He was fine. It really was just a bed. He just needed to sleep and wait for Oikawa’s next move.

After freshening up and finding his extra glasses buried under a mountain of toiletries, Kuroo walked back out and saw Bokuto staring out his window wearing only purple briefs. Kuroo took a moment to appreciate his back, which was even more nice to stare at in person as it was to stare at on video. 

Bokuto turned and smiled at Kuroo as he walked over to the window too.

“I know this sucks,” Bokuto said, his smile faltering. “But thank you for letting me stay with you. And for saving my life. And for taking me to Suga. And for not killing me--”

Kuroo snorted. “Stop it. It’s not like I’m your guardian angel. I felt bad for you is all.”

Bokuto huffed and turned fully to Kuroo and stuck out his left hand. Kuroo flicked his eyes down to it.

“I’m Bokuto Koutarou,” Bokuto said firmly.

“I know,” Kuroo laughed. Bokuto shook his head.

“You didn’t let me finish, man,” he pouted. “I’m Bokuto Koutarou. I love dancing, tequila, owls, blue, and yakiniku. I don’t like math. I snore sometimes, but I’m a really good cook so I hope that makes up for it. And I’m really sad my shoulder is fucked because it might make making out with you kinda hard.”

Kuroo burst out laughing. “You said that like we’re gonna make out anyway.”

“We didn’t get to finish our date earlier, so I was kinda hoping we could pick up where we left off at some point.”

Kuroo gulped. “Hngh,” he replied intelligently. “You’re seriously over the kidnapping thing?”

“I’m not  _ over  _ over it,” Bokuto said, “but we’re stuck together now, and I figured we should at least try to move past it.”

Kuroo felt himself smile as he shook Bokuto’s hand, letting his hand sit comfortably in his warm palm. “In that case, I’m Kuroo Tetsurou. I don’t love tequila, but I do love dancing, and I also love napping and dogs. I’m pretty good at Smash Bros. Sometimes I take hour-long showers because I lose track of time.” Kuroo dropped Bokuto’s hand, biting his lip and looking over Bokuto’s body. He felt Bokuto’s bright eyes on him too, roving over him unabashedly. Kuroo set his mouth in a hard line, and stepped back. 

“We should try to keep it platonic,” Kuroo resolved, though his body ached for him to shut up. “Your dad might want you dead. My boss probably won’t love when he realizes you’re here. And I also don’t wanna make things weird. Weirder.” 

“But--” Bokuto’s shoulders slumped. “You’re right. Sorry, dude, I didn’t mean to make it weird.” 

“No, bro, you didn’t make it weird,” Kuroo said hurriedly, waving his hand dismissively. “This whole thing is just weird. It was weird before. And I just wanna keep things cool, you know? Are we cool?”

“Yeah, yeah, totally,” Bokuto nodded. “Cool, bro.”

“Dope.”

“Awesome.”

“Baller.”

They stood smiling uneasily at each other for a moment before Bokuto yawned, and Kuroo was pulled back into the present moment.

“This is not going to be weird,” Kuroo assured both of them before gesturing to the futon, “so which side do you want?”

“I’ll take edge,” Bokuto said. 

After turning off the light, Kuroo slid in first next to the wall, trying to leave enough space for Bokuto to lay down comfortably. He didn’t normally bring home people who were taller than him for the very reason that he was already a big guy and bigger than him was huge. And right now, laying shoulder to shoulder with Bokuto, he knew that he was going to have to come up with some other sleeping arrangement if this was going to last for any substantial amount of time.

After shifting around to a position that ensured Bokuto’s shoulder wouldn’t get more hurt than it already was, Kuroo sighed deeply.  _ What a fucked up night this has been. _

“G’night,” Bokuto mumbled.

“Night, Bokuto.”

_ Welcome to your new life, Tetsurou. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *banging pots and pans* my life is crazy but guess what? This bitch got finished on time. Wednesday might be late depending on a medical thing I got going on in my life but I'm hoping not
> 
> THANK YOU EVERYONE FOR YOUR SUPPORT DURING THIS TIME!! Every sub, bookmark, comment, and kudos truly means the world to me :') ily all!!!
> 
> I know nothing about gunshot wounds so yeah don't do this at home
> 
> and I love trans characters with my whole heart so have two of them
> 
> idk how much T bokuto would be taking right now (he's probably like 1 1/3 years on it) so don't ask me any close questions on that bc I don't know!!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morning shenanigans and not-so-subtle flirting

Kuroo woke up with a horrible cramp in his neck. Groaning, he screwed his eyes shut against the sun that filled the apartment and stretched. His fingers brushed against the wall and something much softer. And warmer.

With a start, the events of the night came back in a rush and Kuroo stared at Bokuto’s drooling face barely a foot away from his own.

Right. That happened.

Kuroo extracted himself from the bed without waking up his bedmate successfully and found his glasses on the floor nearby. With his sight regained, he surveyed the scene. Bokuto was still sleeping-- very soundly, if his light snores were any indication-- sprawled out like a starfish. Kuroo could see the thin sliver of futon that he must have been relegated to during the night and decided they definitely needed a larger bed.

First, though, Kuroo needed a shower. Desperately. 

The water always warmed slowly, but Kuroo didn’t wait for it to become bearable before shucking off his boxers and stepping under the stream. The water stole his breath away and he fought the urge to jump out again. Instead, he leaned his head under the water and let the stinging cold burn his skin until he couldn’t feel his ears.

He let his mind go blissfully blank as the water started to heat up. Showers were the only time he could truly feel his mind shut up, not having to worry about anything or anyone. In his line of work, it was about as good as a stiff drink after a tough case.

He wasn’t sure how long he spent standing and staring before he actually started cleaning himself, and how long after that he spent “rinsing” before stepping out into the steamy bathroom.

Wiping off the mirror, he checked his face. The cut was slightly puffy, but other than that looked okay. If he slapped some antiseptic and a new bandage over the top, that’d be enough for the day. 

He wrapped his lower half in a towel and shoved his glasses on his face, opening the bathroom door to see a half awake Bokuto propped up on one arm in the bed.

“Morning,” Kuroo called as he crossed the room, “sleep well?”

“Hnnngh,” Bokuto replied, sitting up the rest of the way with a grunt. “I feel like ass.”

Kuroo laughed and bent to grab new boxers from a basket of what he hoped was clean laundry. It probably was.  _ When did I last do laundry? _ “You can take a shower, if you want. Though we should probably stick a bag over your shoulder or something.”

Triumphantly, Kuroo extracted a pair of likely clean boxers (which he really didn’t want to do the sniff test for in front of Bokuto, so he was just gonna go with his gut). Bokuto stood up and stretched his back, moving his right arm gingerly. He grimaced but looked up at Kuroo with an almost genuine smile. 

“Not too bad. Just a little stiff,” he said.

“That was some kind of miracle last night,” Kuroo said, still a little disbelieving, “neither of us getting killed.” However, Bokuto just shrugged.

“Like I said, Dad doesn’t really put big bucks into this kinda thing.”

Bokuto glanced at the clock on the oven. “Fuck, it’s that early? Why did we wake up now?”

Kuroo looked over. It was 10:14. “Uh. I mean you’re welcome to sleep more if you can, but I’m kinda hungry and I wanted to go get a new bed today.”

Bokuto cocked his head to the side. “What’s wrong with the one you already have?”

“I mean, it’s really small,” Kuroo started, “and we’re two big guys. And I’ve been meaning to get an upgrade anyway.” 

Bokuto seemed to accept this as a good answer. He scratched his chest, then frowned. “Could I borrow some of your clothes? I don’t have a shirt.”

Kuroo waved to his pile of clothing and overflowing dresser. “Anything that fits you can wear.” 

Kuroo felt Bokuto’s gaze on his back as he dug through the pile for his own clothes for the day. He wasn’t stupid-- he was aware that wearing a towel and nothing else was distracting-- but he was kind of mean. Biting back a smile, he let the towel drop a little, enough that his hip was now exposed. 

Bokuto coughed, and blustered over to Kuroo’s dresser under the window. His back was firmly turned away from Kuroo, shoulders in a tight line as he rifled through the drawers. 

Kuroo smiled at Bokuto’s back, then followed the flow of his spine down to the band of his briefs. The two dimples right at the base of his spine had somehow escaped his attention until that moment.

_ I wonder what it would feel like to touch them _ .

He felt his heart speed up as he turned fully away from Bokuto.

_ Shut that shit down, Tetsurou. _

Quickly, using the opportunity of Bokuto facing away, Kuroo slipped into his boxers and a pair of sweatpants. He tossed the towel over his shoulder and walked into the kitchen, grabbing the kettle, and asked Bokuto “Do you want tea or coffee?”

“Coffee, thanks!” Bokuto chirped. He turned around with a bundle of clothes in his arm. “Do you have a spare towel? I’m gonna attempt a shower.”

Kuroo popped the kettle on the stove and walked to the closet. “Sure, yeah. Plastic bags are under the sink, and there should be some rubber bands in the drawer next to the stove.”

Kuroo balanced on his toes to pull down the spare linens, shaking out a towel and checking for holes. Some of these towels had moved with him from his childhood home, through university, to now. It was a necessary precaution.

Kuroo dropped the towel on the counters and joined Bokuto on the hunt for rubber bands.

Ten minutes later, after they managed to secure the bag over Bokuto’s shoulder and he headed in to shower, Kuroo flipped on the TV while he let his coffee cool to a potable temperature and the rice cooked.

“--shooting at the Area 28 Bar last night around 11:10.”

Kuroo turned the volume up.

The news anchor’s face was replaced by a video, looking like it was shot from across the street and to the left of the alley where Kuroo and Bokuto had walked into. The video showed the two of them disappearing into the dark, then the bartender walking out and stopping to talk to the bouncer at the door. They seemed to argue for a minute, before the bartender walked around the corner into the alley. The bouncer pulled out his phone, talking to someone and walking away from the door, when the first shots were fired.

Kuroo recognized Iwaizumi rushing out of the building towards the shots. Their van pulled up soon after, though it blocked the view of most of the gunfight that followed. The police showed up soon and the video cut back to the news anchor.

“Several men were taken into custody following the incident, and another sent to the hospital for his injuries,” the anchor reported, “but the woman posing as the bartender escaped capture. It is unclear what prompted this altercation, but police are asking witnesses to come forward with any information they have about the incident. One man, who is shown walking into the alley before the woman, has been identified as the son of Bokuto Hiroki. Bokuto Hiroki has shared this message with us.”

The face of Bokuto’s dad filled the screen. He looked like he hadn’t slept through the night, but his eyes burned with a simmering kind of fury. Behind him, a nervous looking officer and a stern man in a suit stood. Kuroo narrowed his eyes.

“My son was not harmed in the events of last night, but he is resting and will do so until he feels safe again. We are asking anyone with information to come forward and cooperate with law enforcement,” Bokuto Senior said. “Criminals are roaming free in the streets, and we shouldn’t have to wait for another incident like this to happen before acting. Things could have gone much worse for my son, and I don’t want it to get that close ever again.”

Bokuto laughed behind Kuroo, having slipped out of the bathroom at some point during his father’s speech. “Now he’s going to have to hire someone to update my Instagram. He should have just said I died or something.”

“You would rather have everyone think you’re dead?” Kuroo asked incredulously. 

“Sure. Imagine the comeback,” Bokuto said, “it’d be sick as hell.”

Kuroo just sipped his coffee. Bokuto frowned at the TV. “He wants me to come home, I think. He sure sounds desperate,” he snorted. 

Kuroo stood up to check on the rice. “This might be a dumb question, but do you want to go back?”

Bokuto sighed. “I have to go back at some point. I can’t live here forever, and I know Dad’s just gonna find me. But I just wish he’d leave me alone or whatever. Disown me like a normal dad or something.”

“And you can’t, like, get him arrested or whatever?”

Bokuto stared at Kuroo blankly. Then smiled sadly. “My dad golfs with the police commissioner and his lawyer has gotten him out of worse things than maybe conspiring to kill his son. They were the guys on the news.”

Uneasy silence hung between them like a fog. 

“Sorry,” Kuroo mumbled with a nod, ducking his head to look at the floor.

Bokuto shook his head. “Seriously, it’s fine. I think he got a little scared this time, so I might be able to have a couple quiet years before he tries again. If it really is him.”

Kuroo wasn’t sure what to say, so he pulled out a carton of eggs instead. “Are you hungry, bro?”

“Starving!” Bokuto bounded over to Kuroo. “But let me help. I can cook, remember?”

“Right,” Kuroo chuckled, “do you want to make the omelets while I fry the fish?”

Bokuto nodded emphatically and set to work cracking eggs. His gaze was focused solely on the eggs, brow furrowed slightly as he whisked them. It was almost cute.

Kuroo saw he had managed to maneuver himself into a tee shirt that was almost too tight on him, and a pair of Kuroo’s track pants were stretched over his impressive thighs.

_ Hot damn. How did he fit in those? _

“Bro, what’s your squat?” Kuroo asked. “Your legs are massive.”

Bokuto grinned. “Checking out the goods?”

Kuroo whistled as Bokuto strutted around the small kitchen. 

“Those pants look like you could flex out of them,” Kuroo joked. Bokuto laughed loudly.

They made eye contact, and after a minute of trying, determined that the pants were too stretchy to break.

“If they were jeans, though,” Kuroo assured him as they returned to their cooking, “they wouldn’t stand a chance.”

After eating, Kuroo pulled on a shirt and started searching for socks. 

“Where’re you going?” Bokuto asked. He was laying on the floor with his hand resting on his stomach contently, watching Kuroo’s movements around the room as he collected his things. 

“Nitori.” Kuroo pulled out two socks that looked close enough to a match and started slipping them on. “Gotta get a bed upgrade, remember?”

Bokuto sat up with a pout. “Do I have to stay here?”

Kuroo shrugged. “I mean, you can come if you want. But you should probably hide your hair.”

Bokuto reached and touched his silver strands gently. “Good point. Do you have a hat I can borrow?”

Kuroo pulled out a baseball cap from under a few shirts and threw it over to him. Bokuto shoved most of the silver under it, looking over to Kuroo for confirmation. Kuroo flashed him a thumbs up. 

“I was also thinking we should get you some clothes that might actually fit you. Or at least some shoes that aren’t puked on.”

Bokuto looked at Kuroo’s feet. “Your feet aren’t that much bigger than mine.”

“Yeah, they are,” Kuroo assured him, and tossed him a sneaker to try on. “These are my smallest shoes.”

Bokuto tried them on and sighed. “Maybe you’re right.” He flicked his foot around lazily, leg up in the air, and sent the shoe flying right into Kuroo’s face. Bokuto froze, foot still stuck up, staring at Kuroo intently. 

Kuroo burst into laughter. Bokuto cracked a grin, and the two of them were doubled over. 

“About the shoes, though,” Bokuto said once they calmed down, “I actually have an idea. I bet I can just get Akaashi to get clothes for me.”

Kuroo sobered up immediately. “Bokuto, that’s not a good idea.”

But Bokuto shook his head quickly. “It’s fine! He has a key to my apartment so it wouldn’t be weird for him to hang out there anyway. I bet he’s there right now. He can pack a bag for me, see I’m okay, and it’ll be fine.”

Still, Kuroo hesitated. 

“You’re sure he wouldn’t be seen by someone?”

Bokuto shook his head. “Staff get the weekend off, and even if my dad were watching the tapes for the building, it wouldn’t be suspicious for Akaashi to take a suitcase out of the building. He changes his wardrobe out every few weeks.”

Kuroo could see the pleading in his eyes. The guy was really not having a good twenty four hours, and if he was sure it was fine, what was the harm?

“Okay, fine,” Kuroo relented. “We’ll stop by a store where I know the owner. She’ll let us use her phone.”

Bokuto beamed at him. “Thank you, thank you, thank you! ‘Kaashi’ll be careful.”

He stood up and walked over to the counter. “I’m just gonna take my T, and the stuff Suga gave me, then I’ll be ready.”

With a nod, Kuroo ducked into the bathroom to wrangle his hair. It didn’t look too bad, but the ends of his hair were definitely curling up a bit. And it was too hot for him to justify wearing a hat today. He pulled a strand down on his forehead and sighed. 

_ One day, I’ll learn to actually do my hair.  _

For the moment, though, he grabbed a headband off the sink and pushed his bangs off his forehead. Then started to dab concealer on an angry red spot between his eyebrows.

Bokuto poked his head in through the open door. “Is the puke super noticeable?” He stuck his foot out for Kuroo to inspect. “I don’t think it’s too bad.”

Kuroo looked down. “Nah, it’s fine.” He looked over Bokuto’s outfit. The cap worked well with the tee shirt and Nike pants, and the white sneakers (if the suspicious stain was ignored) actually looked very fashionable. Kuroo half-wondered if Bokuto looked better in his clothes than Kuroo himself did. 

“Hang on.” Kuroo reached for Bokuto’s hat. “You got some silver showing.”

Bokuto closed his eyes as Kuroo ran his fingers through his hair, pushing the hair back as much as possible. Kuroo felt himself repeating the action, a strange sort of callback to the previous night, and watching as Bokuto’s long eyelashes fluttered against his cheeks. Up close, he could see a smattering of freckles across his face and a small scar over his lip. 

With a quiet gulp, Kuroo pulled back his hand and replaced the hat. “There ya go,” he said, too quickly, and moved past Bokuto to escape the bathroom.

Bokuto made a small noise behind him but Kuroo was grabbing his keys and wallet. “Ready?”

Bokuto followed him out of the apartment and looked up and down the hallway while they waited for the elevator. “Your apartment building is small.”

“It’s quiet,” Kuroo shrugged. “And rent is pretty cheap.”

Bokuto still looked pretty unimpressed. “It’s also pretty old.”

“We don’t all have a lot of extra cash to live in high-rises,” Kuroo said defensively. Bokuto patted Kuroo’s arm as a truce. The elevator arrived with a tinny ‘ding!’ and they stepped in.

“What do you spend your money on?” Bokuto asked, then plucked at the shirt he was wearing. “Since this looks like it came in three pack from Amazon.”

Kuroo faked a wounded gasp. “I don’t buy my clothes from Amazon, thank you very much. I’m pretty sure that shirt is from GU, actually, and not from a three pack.”

Bokuto made a dismissive sound. “Same difference. You don’t spend your money on clothes or a fancy apartment.”

Kuroo led him out of the elevator and out to the street. “I send most of it to my brother,” he responded, squinting against the sun. 

“I didn’t know you had a brother,” Bokuto said. 

“Why would you?”

“I don’t know,” Bokuto mumbled. “I feel like you know a lot about me. Feels weird.”

Kuroo snorted. “I only had a file from my boss and your Insta. I don’t know a lot about you.”

“Wait, you had a file on me?” Bokuto asked. “What was on it?”

“Uh,” Kuroo thought, “I don’t know. Stuff. Your arrest record, a list of your friends, a basic couple of characteristics.”

Bokuto laughed. “My arrest record? That’s kinda embarrassing.”

“I was expecting someone different than what I’ve seen.” Still, the reminder was sobering. “Unless you’ve been playing me.”

“Oh, totally. I’m a master criminal.” Bokuto tried to keep a straight face, but a grin fought its way to his face, so Bokuto shook his head. “I mean, I did that stuff, but I really wanted validation from my dad my last year of high school. And I obviously wasn’t very good at it since I did get arrested a few times.”

Kuroo chuckled. “Yeah, I guess not.”

“What’s your brother’s name?” Bokuto asked, stuffing his hands in his pockets. He gazed earnestly at Kuroo, bright eyes locking onto Kuroo’s.

Kuroo felt his face warm, but he hoped it was just the sun. “Hachirou. He’s in school in America with a partial scholarship, so I pay for his books, rent, and probably his alcohol.” He laughed. “He doesn’t ask where it comes from, but he’s always grateful.”

Bokuto looked surprised. “He doesn’t know what you do?”

“Would you tell your little brother if you had my job?” Kuroo asked with a half-smile. “It’s not like I’m proud of my work, but I need to keep it up until he’s done with school. Then I’ll quit if Oikawa will let me.”

Bokuto hummed. “When this is all over, I can make sure your brother has enough.”

Kuroo started to object, but Bokuto shushed him. “You kept me from being dead. I owe you something at least.”

“You can pay me by not leading a bunch of people to my apartment,” Kuroo said.

“Akaashi is super careful,” Bokuto reassured him. Kuroo rubbed the back of his neck, unsuccessfully avoiding Bokuto’s pleading gaze.

“I’m sure he is, but I really don’t want your dad to get an ID on me. You’re a liability.” Kuroo smirked with the final word and Bokuto shoved him lightly. 

“You can’t use that word for me. Only my friends can call me a liability.”

“But I thought we were friends.” Now it was Kuroo’s turn to pout. 

But Bokuto stayed firmly looking ahead. “I don’t think we’re liability-level friends.”

“Just ‘I saved your ass and let you stay in my apartment and fed you’ level friends?”

“Yeah,” Bokuto finally turned to Kuroo, a challenging glint in his eye. “Don’t get cocky, street cat.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, rich brat,” Kuroo needled, dodging out of the way of another shove. “Too slow.”

“I’m not left handed,” Bokuto moped, but Kuroo didn’t miss the way the corner of his mouth twitched.

“Maybe that would work if I were stupid,” Kuroo said, “but I’m sure you punch just as hard with your left hand. I just gotta stay one step ahead.”

Bokuto faked a casual look over, before pouncing. “Gotcha!” 

Kuroo couldn’t help but smile when Bokuto gave him a tight left-armed hug so tight he thought his shoulders would crack.

  
_ I could have been stuck with a worse guy _ , he decided as Bokuto bounded ahead, chasing after a cat that had popped out of an alley.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry I missed Wednesday! I was tired, it was finals week, whatever. I'm also working on another TanaNoya fic and I just got another fic idea... but I still love Move Past This and I'm excited for what comes next!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shopping centers, Bokuto is a flirt, and Akaashi is mad

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: brief mentions of disordered eating and gender dysphoria (not graphic)

The stop at the store was going to be brief-- after a quick chat with the clerk and telling her their phones were lost, she led Kuroo and Bokuto into the back room. After she left, Kuroo turned to Bokuto.

“In case his phone is tapped, keep it short and as unspecific as possible,” Kuroo murmured. “Tell him a time and place, but don’t be obvious about it. Also, probably don’t tell him your name.”

Kuroo ducked out of the room to keep watch, but the store was empty. He eyed the security camera warily. Kuroo hoped that Bokuto’s father wouldn’t think to check the cameras in a tiny store. 

Nitori, however, might be difficult.

He grabbed a pair of sunglasses off the display for Bokuto. When he finished paying for them, Bokuto walked out of the back with a thumbs up.

“All good!”

Kuroo smiled and passed him the glasses. “It’s a bright day. Thought you might appreciate these.”

“Not my normal label,” he said, taking them and sliding them on. “How do I look?"

"Stunning, bro."

The walk to the bus was quick. At the stop, Kuroo turned to Bokuto. “What did you tell Akaashi, exactly?”

“I told him to meet me at the place I lost my virginity at my favorite number. Was that good?”

Kuroo raised his eyebrows. “Well. I would assume that wouldn’t be obvious to anyone listening, but will he know where that is?”

“Course he will! Akaashi knows everything about me,” Bokuto assured him. “And he’s really smart.”

Kuroo nodded. It wasn’t that big of a deal if they did or didn’t meet Akaashi for him, so even if Akaashi wasn’t actually able to figure out Bokuto’s directions it was fine. They would just have to keep sharing clothes.

“So what place and time is that?”

“Four, in a park in Taito-ku.”

“A park?”

Bokuto shrugged. “I got a lot of dirt in my hair, and we were nearly caught by a cop doing a patrol. It was kinda scary at the time but now it’s just funny.”

“Damn, okay,” Kuroo chuckled, “you got me beat for bad first times.”

Bokuto nudged him with his foot. “Okay, so what about you?”

“It’s gross,” Kuroo warned. “Okay, we were both really drunk. And I don’t remember it really well, but I do remember stopping halfway through so she could puke, and I puked too, then we just went back at it.”

Bokuto gagged. “That’s horrible. You can keep the bad first time title.”

“I’ve gotten a lot better with both drinking and sex since those days,” Kuroo promised. 

“I believe it. You got the heavy-drinker, dangerously-good lover look.”

Kuroo spluttered out a laugh. “That’ll be my new Tinder bio once I get to have my life again.”

Bokuto laughed too as the bus stopped in front of them. “You’ll have to let me know how many people it pulls.”

Kuroo tugged Bokuto to a seat in the back behind a very chatty group of middle aged women. He rested his head on the window and half-listened to their conversation about some person named Satsuki for the ride. Whatever they had done, these women were very scandalized.

The shopping center was packed when they arrived. Kuroo couldn’t quite decide if it was a good or bad thing but figured it wasn’t bad to get lost in a crowd of faces. Still, he checked to make sure Bokuto was wearing his hat and glasses before he let them walk very far off the bus. 

“We have about an hour and half until we need to get to the park,” Kuroo said, “so that should be fine to shop. But we need to be caref-- hey, where are you going?”

Bokuto was drifting away from him, off towards a food cart. “I’m hungry.”

“We just ate like an hour ago,” Kuroo said, “how are you hungry again?”

Bokuto ignored him, reaching for his wallet. “I wonder how much cash I grabbed last night,” he mumbled.

Kuroo sighed. “Okay, quick stop for food, then we get the bed.”

Bokuto nodded quickly. “Yeah, of course! Super quick, I swear. Just a snack.”

He ended up getting a mountain of food.

“This is a snack to you?” Kuroo asked incredulously. Bokuto slurped a noodle loudly.

“I have a big appetite. So it’ll have to do.”

Kuroo just shook his head. “I have enough to feed you, bro.”

Bokuto smirked at him. “I’m sure you do.”

“You know what I mean, bro.”

Bokuto smiled but didn’t respond immediately. He worked on stuffing his face, brow furrowed. Finally, he set his chopsticks down and swallowed hard. His fingers knotted in his lap and his shoulders dropped. “I don’t want to be a burden to you.”

Kuroo was a bit surprised. Until this point, Bokuto hadn’t seemed very serious about the whole thing. But his entire demeanor had shifted from somewhat breezy to stony in a matter of seconds.

“Even under the best circumstances, I know I’m not a good person to be around,” he said, voice dropping to not be overheard, “I’m kinda hard to keep up with, I’m moody, I’m spoiled-- and right now I know you're taking a big risk even sitting here with me. And you don’t even know me!” Frustration colored his cheeks. “I don’t know how to stop it from happening, but I don’t want to drag you down with me.”

Feeling his chest tighten, Kuroo shook his head. “Hey, shut up.”

Bokuto snorted but still looked disheartened. Kuroo sighed. “Look, man. You’re not a burden, okay? I like what I’ve seen. If I hadn’t, I would have left you behind. Also,” he smiled softly, “you’re not gonna drag me down or whatever. I always end up on my feet.”

Bokuto didn’t respond, but did pick up his chopsticks to keep eating again. Unsure of how to best help the situation, Kuroo opted for silence and thought back on what Bokuto had said.

Bokuto had a point-- they didn’t know each other all that well. It’d been less than a week since they actually met. But there was something about Bokuto that felt… worth it. Like chasing a storm-- he’d be soaked, sure, but the chase was exhilarating. And that feeling alone was worth it.

But maybe he wasn’t listening to what Bokuto was really saying.

“Bokuto,” Kuroo whispered, “you can leave whenever you want, if that’s what you’re asking for. I don’t want to stop you if you want to leave with Akaashi today.”

Bokuto looked up. He had sauce on his chin and wide eyes. He then shook his head violently. “No, no, that’s not-- no, I don’t wanna leave. But I just don’t want you to get hurt because of me.”

Kuroo gestured to his cheek. “Little late for that, bro. I’m in it now.”

“And,” he said, leaning forward to meet Bokuto’s gaze, “as far as roommates go, you’re not so bad. I don’t think I’ve ever had a roommate that can dance well and sing in another language while drunk.”

This seemed to shift something Bokuto, who nodded. “You’re pretty cool yourself. I’ve never seen one of my roommates call himself a slut so coolly while held at gunpoint.”

An easy silence fell between them, but Kuroo could tell Bokuto was feeling at least marginally better just by how his shoulders were relaxed.

Bokuto finished eating and they headed off for Nitori. Kuroo tried to steer them away from as many cameras as possible, but he knew that was a futile endeavor. Luckily, the crowds didn’t thin too much even as they entered Nitori so they were able to blend it somewhat despite their height.

“Okay, so we need to find another futon for you,” Kuroo said, passing the rows of kitchenwares. Bokuto made a surprised noise. 

“I thought we were going to buy a larger bed,” he said. 

“I decided I don’t want to have a whole bed in my living space. I’ll just have an extra futon at the end of this whole thing,” Kuroo explained. Bokuto frowned.

“But your futon sucks. Don’t you want a new one too?”

“Hey,” Kuroo warned, “watch it. You seemed to sleep fine last night.”

“I was very tired. It had nothing to do with your futon,” Bokuto assured him. He pointed at a large Western-style bed. “What about that one?”

“That wouldn’t fit at all. And did you forget the part where I said I don’t want a bed in my living space?”

Bokuto ignored him and walked to another bed. “What about this one? I think it’d work.”

“Bo--”

A sales associate walked up to Bokuto. “Can I help you with anything, sir?”

“Yes, you can,” Bokuto said with a charming smile. “We’re looking for a new bed for our apartment.”

The woman’s eyes widened slightly. “One bed, or…?”

“We’re very close, and it’s a small apartment,” was all Bokuto decided to say with a suggestive wink. Kuroo narrowed his eyes. 

She blushed slightly, coughing. “Well, there’s a few fold-outs that could work for you, in your particular living arrangement” she said, leading them across the store, “if you have a shared living and sleeping space.”

Bokuto grinned back at Kuroo. “See? I can find a good solution for both of us,” he said low enough for the associate not to overhear them.

“You want to share a bed,” Kuroo deadpanned.

“No, I’m just thinking practically,” Bokuto mumbled. “A fold-out would be nice for you. You’d have a couch _and_ bed.”

Kuroo chuckled. “Quick question. Does platonic have a meaning for you?”

“What?” Bokuto asked mockingly. “Bros can’t share a bed?”

Kuroo thought for a second. “I mean…”

The associate showed them a selection of fold-outs and after some serious deliberation, and a lot of charm from Bokuto, they walked out from the store with a pretty good deal on a fold-out and free delivery to the building tomorrow. Kuroo was, admittedly, impressed.

“How did you know to play the ambiguous gay card?” Kuroo asked once they left the store.

Bokuto made a vague, wavy hand gesture. “She had the look. It was a calculated move.” He grinned. “She also had a Yuri Katsuki chibi pin on her vest.”

“So perceptive.”

“Hey, if you know, you know.”

\---

When they walked through the entrance to the park, Bokuto pointed to a thicket of trees a hundred meters away. “That’s where I had sex for the first time,” he said proudly. 

“That seems like it was an extremely risky place to do it,” Kuroo said, looking around. “How old were you?”

“Seventeen, and very horny.”

Kuroo snorted. “Naturally.”

“It was my first boyfriend.” Bokuto sighed wistfully. “He was so hot. He was the rugby captain and had _really_ nice arms and thighs.”

“When in school, were you…?” Kuroo realized too late it might be an invasive question, but Bokuto shook his head.

“I wasn’t out, if that’s what you meant,” Bokuto replied. “No one besides Akaashi knew before I graduated. I didn’t really even understand it until I was fifteen, and then I had to quit volleyball because the uniforms made me really dysphoric. Which sucks!” He rocked back on his heels. “I love volleyball. But the team was also really obsessed with how they looked and we had weekly weigh-ins at the captain’s house. It just made me feel worse, so I quit to stay happy.”

“That really blows,” Kuroo sympathized, “I’m sorry. Did the coach not care?”

“Nah,” Bokuto said. “He knew we did it, but I don’t think he cared because we were a pretty good team. And so long as nobody collapsed on the court, it was fine.”

“Damn.”

“Yeah, but it’s in the past. And we have bigger problems now,” he looked over Kuroo’s shoulder and wilted. “Like how Akaashi looks really mad.”

Sure enough, when Kuroo turned around, he spotted a figure who was walking with an uncomfortably straight posture and a positively livid expression.

Bokuto raised a hand in a half-greeting to him. “Hey, ‘Kaashi--”

Akaashi cut him off with a sharp ear tweak. “I don’t even know what to say.”

“What--”

“Tell me exactly what has happened, and do not lie to me.”

Meekly, Bokuto recounted the events of the night to Akaashi, including who Kuroo was and the stop at Suga’s. 

Though he omitted the fact they had been to a shopping center less than an hour ago, instead saying they’d just been “walking around for a while” before meeting.

“I knew you were impulsive, Bokuto,” Akaashi muttered furiously once Bokuto finished, “but this is beyond impulsive. Your father has practically everyone searching the city for you. Do you want him to find you?”

Akaashi fixed his sight on Kuroo, eyes blazing. “You’re not safe either, you know. He wants to know where ‘Obara Yuuma’ is. And you’re putting Bokuto in danger.”

Kuroo shrank back. “I know, I--”

“Akaashi,” Bokuto whimpered, “I’m sorry. It was my idea to go out today.”

Akaashi’s eyes cut away from Kuroo, softening slightly. “I was-- and very much still am-- worried for you. I’m working with Terushima and Suzumeda to try and figure something out, but I need you to stay safe.” His gaze hardened again. “And that means not walking around during the day, in crowded places with cameras.”

Kuroo cleared his throat. “My colleagues are working too.”

“Well, I hope I don’t offend you when I say I don’t want to rely on worthless criminals right now,” Akaashi said, “considering you do kill people fairly regularly. And for all I know, you’re part of this.”

Kuroo bristled. “I got shot. And so did my coworker.”

“Kaashi,” Bokuto blurted, “he had so many opportunities to kill me last night and he didn’t. He could have shot me, slit my throat, poisoned me, snapped my neck, beaten me to a pulp--”

“I get it, Bokuto.”

“I’m just saying. And now you’ve met him so it’s even less likely he’ll kill me.”

Akaashi pinched his eyes shut and took a deep breath, then turned to Kuroo. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. I really do appreciate you keeping Bokuto safe.” He smiled apologetically at Kuroo. “I didn’t mean to call you a worthless criminal.”

“Well, I mean, I am a criminal,” Kuroo conceded, “and I have killed a few people before. So I get it.”

Akaashi passed Bokuto his bag. “I want to finish this. Your father makes me fucking sick, and he’s not getting away anymore. I tracked down one of his assistants last night. Suzumeda and I are meeting with him tomorrow. Just please,” his fingers gripped Bokuto’s forearm tightly, “don’t do anything stupid.”

Bokuto nodded. “Course. We’ll stay in the apartment unless we need to leave.”

“Thank you,” Akaashi sighed. He nodded at both of them. “I should get going now. I left my phone in your apartment, and I don’t want to miss a call from your father or Terushima.”

Bokuto sniffed, then threw his arm around Akaashi. “I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too,” Akaashi said, squeezing him back. “I brought you your laptop. I logged you into an encrypted email, so you can send me messages on that. Emergencies only, though. I don’t want to get messages about some dog you see out the window, I’ll be busy.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Bokuto brushed him off. “I get it. Now go save me or whatever.”

“I always will, Koutarou.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this is a little shorter than usual, and probably not the best quality of writing either. I've been really tired and I keep changing how I want this to end so it's been hard to stick to a plot. I think I have it figured out but we'll see. 
> 
> Also, it's now more of a post on Sunday and aspiration to post on Wednesdays, FYI!
> 
> Whining about my life in the parenthesis, feel free to ignore it! I just need to write it down and then I'll be good.
> 
> (so, it's my birthday tomorrow and it's been kinda depressing to think about. I feel like I'm getting really old even though I'm literally turning twenty. The weather is gross, my mom is driving me crazy, I want to break up with my partner but I am so scared I'll regret it, and I'm really struggling with my gender these days, on top of the fact that the world is just hard to be in. I'll be fine of course, but I really just don't want to celebrate my birthday at all. Thank you for reading if you did <3 take care of yourself)


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quiet night in, and a surprise visitor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW transphobia mention

The rest of the day was mercifully quiet. They headed straight back to Kuroo’s apartment without any stops or interruptions, and as soon as they walked through the door Bokuto flopped on the floor and took a nap. After checking the locks on the door and windows Kuroo pulled out his Switch. He’d been working through a quest on Zelda last weekend and hadn’t quite finished it yet. 

Before he knew it, the room had gone dark as the sun dipped below the horizon and Bokuto was leaning over his shoulder.

“Whatcha doing?” He asked sleepily, propping his chin on Kuroo’s shoulder. It dug in sharply.

“Zelda,” Kuroo said and shrugged him off his back. “Sorry, you’re probably hungry. I can make something.”

Bokuto shook his head firmly and stood up. “I’ll make dinner. I want you to taste my cooking.”

“You’re a guest,” Kuroo protested, saving his game, “I can’t have you cook a meal alone.”

Bokuto laughed. “I don’t know if I count as a guest any more.” He threw open the fridge. “What do you eat, Kuroo? There’s nothing in here except beer and eggs and some sad vegetables.”

“That’s what I eat, then,” Kuroo said. “And a lot of stuff from 7-Eleven.”

Bokuto made a vague noise of displeasure as he pulled out a few green things. He then pulled open a drawer with gusto then frowned. “Uh, why do you have just a drawer of not food knives?”

“I gotta put them somewhere. Normally guests don’t go digging through my kitchen drawers,” Kuroo said. Bokuto nodded. 

“Fair, yeah. Where would I find the food knives?”

Bokuto, despite the limitations that Kuroo’s larder held, managed to pull together an impressive dinner of food that Kuroo had actually forgotten about in his freezer and cabinets. He had kept Kuroo from stepping into the kitchen by hitting him with a towel whenever he tried to come within helping-range. So Kuroo laid on the floor and watched Bokuto half-cook, half-dance to the music he was playing from his laptop. He looked surprisingly comfortable in the space, almost as if it were his own kitchen he was dance-cooking in. 

Humorously, Kuroo thought Bokuto was probably more comfortable in it than Kuroo had ever been. 

By the time dinner was done, it was only eight thirty. Too early to turn in but there wasn’t a whole lot to do in his apartment, Kuroo realized. He wasn’t used to spending this much time here with someone else. 

But Bokuto was already ahead of him-- he was stretched out on the floor, wearing only a pair ugly green sweatpants Akaashi had bought him, flipping through the games next to the TV.

“Bro, what are some of these?” He asked, showing him a case of some super hard game he’d never finished. Kuroo shrugged.

“Kenma gets me games sometimes,” Kuroo said, wincing as a dish slipped from his fingers and clattered to the bottom of the sink. Chipped, but not broken.

Bokuto threw the game back on the pile, and pulled out another. “We gotta play this!”

Kuroo looked over and saw he was waving Smash Bros. “I warn you,” Kuroo teased, “as a bachelor with a lot of free evenings, I have gotten pretty good at this.”

Bokuto laughed. “I’m not very good sober, but I get exponentially better the more alcohol I have in my body.”

“Bullshit.”

“If you don’t believe me, wanna see?”

Kuroo was definitely interested. 

“Let me finish the dishes.”

Bokuto pushed past him and pulled out the beers. “Is this all that you have?”

“I have some whiskey in the cabinet,” Kuroo said, looking back at Bokuto to see his disgusted face. “Sorry,” he chuckled, “no tequila, I know.”

Bokuto took his armful of beer cans back to his spot on the floor. “I’ll stick with beer.”

“That’s fine for me,” Kuroo said. He grabbed the whiskey for himself, scrunching his nose against the bite of cheap alcohol that wafted up as he poured himself a glass.

Bokuto was already hooking up the Switch and clicking through to Smash. “Ready to smash?” Bokuto asked, cracking open a beer. Kuroo just rolled his eyes and took a seat next to him.

“Cheers!” Bokuto knocked his can against Kuroo’s glass. “To us two bros smashing.”

“Are you twelve?” Kuroo asked before sipping his drink. 

“Twenty two, actually,” Bokuto corrected, “but close.”

Kuroo thought back to Bokuto’s file as he set the glass down. “I thought you were twenty four,” Kuroo said.

“Legally, I’m twenty four,” Bokuto conceded, “but I’m actually twenty two. Like, my dad changed my legal identity when I transitioned and my first identity is kinda erased.”

“Why?” Kuroo asked. “That seems like a lot of work.”

“He has a friend in some legal paperwork office so it wasn’t so bad,” Bokuto said. “He didn’t want people to know I’m trans, so he sent me to the UK for two years and I came back as his ‘son from a previous, short marriage’ and his daughter pretty much disappeared. I’ve only been back for about ten months, but so far it’s been pretty okay.” 

“So,” Kuroo mumbled, “your dad is supportive…?”

Bokuto snorted. “Uh, hardly. He’s only done the bare minimum once he realized I was gonna start transitioning whether he liked it or not and he wanted it to be on his terms. He didn’t even let me choose my name. Also, I was never in danger of getting killed until I was in the UK, but that might have also been because I was in high school.”

“I’m sorry,” Kuroo said for what felt like the millionth time, then asked “Do you want to have a different name?”

“Koutarou is fine, I guess,” Bokuto said, “but I just wanted him to ask me first at least.”

Kuroo shook his head. “You dad is a bastard. It’s your name, not his.”

Bokuto nodded with an easy smile. “It could be worse. I could have gotten cut off.”

“You think it’s better to be living in fear of your life but rich than not rich but living freely?”

Bokuto frowned. “Don’t say it like that. I didn’t really have much of a choice. It’s not easy to leave my family behind-- they just hang on until you disappear or die.” He took a gulp of his beer, clenching the can a bit. “Sides, my horrible cousin probably would have swooped in and taken my place and I can’t just  _ let _ that happen.” 

He picked up his controller with a determinedly cheery grin. “Anyway, let me beat you already. I’m just drinking more and more and I want you to have at least a small chance of winning.”

They clicked through to the character selection and Bokuto’s cursor hovered over Ness. Kuroo groaned.

“Seriously?” Kuroo said, turning to Bokuto. “You play Ness?”

He laughed. “What’s wrong? Not a Ness fan?”

“Is anyone?” Kuroo deadpanned, and clicked on DK. “I can still crush your ass.”

And he did. Pretty easily. But Bokuto took a drink every time he died and by the time the game was finished, he’d finished his first beer. “That was just a warm up, don’t worry.”

They changed characters then went in again. Bokuto might have just been getting in Kuroo’s head, but he did seem a little harder to beat. But he still won. At the start of beer three, however, Bokuto turned to Kuroo.

“Pick your best character,” he said. He clicked the random button and chugged half his beer. “I got this.”

“Woah, big words,” Kuroo mused, taking a sip of his own drink. “You sound so sure.”

“Three drinks is the sweet spot for me where I start getting good,” Bokuto said with a wink. Kuroo smiled, then chose Pikachu.  _ Confidence is a really great look on him, but he still needs to go down. _

In a slightly woozy haze, Kuroo looked over to Bokuto and saw he was already watching Kuroo. His smile was lopsided and teasing, eyes shining with the thrill of competition. A slight rosy color was dusted over his cheeks. Strands of hair framed his face in a way that made him look younger than twenty-four, younger than twenty two. All fine and good--  _ he looks normal, Kuroo _ \-- but it was hard to miss the way the corner of Bokuto’s lips tugged up just slightly when he looked at Kuroo, or the way he cleared his throat almost silently except Kuroo’s eyes were already on his throat and he saw the muscles moving.

“So,” Kuroo croaked, “I’m just gonna zap your ass real quick.”

“My poor ass,” Bokuto sighed, breaking the moment fully and turning back to the screen, “it’s been threatened so much tonight.”

“I did beat you twice,” Kuroo reminded him as the arena loaded up. Then he laughed, realizing who Bokuto was playing. “You got Bayonetta.”

Right off the bat, however, Kuroo felt a big change in the game play. It was really hard to focus because Bokuto had gotten very focused, almost silent, which unsettled Kuroo. It was weird not to hear Bokuto's string of trash talk and commentary on the game. And, also, Kuroo noticed how Bokuto seemed to hit more than a few Bayonetta's combos perfectly timed to fuck him over. 

The game ended with Kuroo’s sound defeat.

"How." Kuroo flopped back on the floor. "You were trash before."

Bokuto hooted. "Told you! I'm fucking great at this game at three drinks."

Kuroo rolled his eyes. "You caught me off-guard. I still have two wins."

But Bokuto was too far gone. He was gloating endlessly, though somewhat repetitively, while he did a shimmying victory dance. He got close to Kuroo's face, chanting "I won, I won, I won" and ruffled Kuroo's already messy hair. 

"And you doubted me," Bokuto beamed. "Now that you know my awesomeness, I expect a better fight from you. Come on."

They played another round. And another. And another. And another. Soon, they had both lost track of who was winning, and they were both properly drunk. Kuroo put down his controller and sighed sickly. 

"I think I gotta call it. The colors 'nd light 'nd sounds… too much."

Bokuto nodded. "Yeah, good call. I don't want you to hurl."

Kuroo snorted. "'M not gonna huuurl," he dragged his body closer to Bokuto on the final syllable. "I'm a grown ass man."

"Even the grownest of men gotta hurl sometimes," Bokuto said seriously. Kuroo cracked into giggles.

"Grownest? That's not, um, right," Kuroo mumbled finally, but split back into laughter almost immediately after, which triggered Bokuto’s laughter too. 

“It is! Think so, at least.”

Once they returned to normal breathing, Bokuto looked at the time over Kuroo’s shoulder. "Hey, happy twenty four hours of being roommates."

"Happy twenty four to us," Kuroo sang. He pulled himself up with a groan. "To celebrate, ‘m gonna get the futon out."

"Need help?"

Kuroo shook his head (a little too hard-- the room spun) and waved him off. "I got this. Go brush your face or whatever."

By the time Bokuto emerged from the bathroom, Kuroo was passed out on the hastily laid out futon and snoring away happily. 

He didn’t see the way Bokuto rolled his eyes with a smile, before turning out the light, or feel him rolling Kuroo onto his own side.

\---

Kuroo woke to the sound of hammering on his door with a start. Next to him, Bokuto mumbled blearily as he rubbed his eyes.

“Wuzzit?”

Kuroo waved a hand at him, already tense, and put a finger to his lips. Quietly, Kuroo stood up and moved to grab a knife from the drawer. It was just after eight-thirty so it was too early for the delivery of the fold-out. Suga, Daichi, and Kiyoko wouldn't come around this early either. And most other people who could be in the hallway were not good news for Kuroo or Bokuto. 

Kuroo’s mind was reeling, but he forced the buzzing in his mind to settle. It was no good to panic; he needed to stay calm. He glanced back at Bokuto, who was more awake now and looking warily at the door. His fingers were twisted in the blanket under his palms, breaths shallow, pupils wide. 

Kuroo suppressed the urge to say something to comfort him, instead flexing his fingers on the hilt of his blade as he walked to the peephole. With a calming breath, he pressed his eye to the door.

“What the fuc--” 

He stepped back and yanked out the chain from the door, threw the lock back, and opened the door. “Kenma!” 

His coworker was standing in an oversized hoodie, looking decidedly uncomfortable. “Let me in, Kuroo.”

Kuroo stepped aside to let Kenma pass, looking up and down the hall before closing the door behind him. 

“Sorry for the intrusion,” Kenma mumbled, toeing off his shoes, “I know this is early.”

“It’s, uh, fine,” Kuroo said, “but how did you know I lived here?”

“Oikawa asks me to follow everyone home every now and then. Don’t take it personally.”

Bokuto was still sitting in bed with a shocked expression. Kenma looked slightly surprised to see him, but recovered fairly quickly. He nodded to him cordially then turned to Kuroo. “I wanted to give you some things, and say goodbye.”

“Goodbye?” Kuroo frowned. “Where are you going?”

Kenma sat at the table and pulled his backpack off his back. “Everyone is leaving. Oikawa cleared out the office and told everyone to split up.” Kuroo joined him at the table, rubbing his temples.

Bokuto stood up and brushed his hair back from his face. “I’ll, uh, give you guys some space. Um, shower-- I’m gonna-- yeah.” He passed Kenma with a nod and squeezed Kuroo’s shoulder before disappearing into the bathroom.

Kenma watched Kuroo’s face carefully. “I didn’t know you kept him with you.”

“I didn’t  _ keep _ him,” Kuroo bristled. “He’s just staying with me until things get sorted out.”

Kenma shrugged. “I really don’t care. Just making conversation.”

“Then catch me up. What’s happened since Friday? Why is Oikawa clearing out the office?”

“He got scared. He bailed out everyone who was being held then told the rest of us to scatter. I’m not really sure who’s left.” Kenma stopped, then pulled out a plastic shopping bag and a paper file. “These are the things from your locker, and the file Oikawa had on you.”

Kuroo took the things from him and set them on the floor. Then, he filled Kenma in on the broad strokes of everything that had happened to him in Bokuto, including the talk with Akaashi yesterday. “So we’re trying to stay in as much as possible, which is already kinda hard because my apartment is pretty boring.” Finally, he folded his hands under his chin and looked to Kenma. 

“Besides what you already told me, is there anything else that happened or that all?”

Kenma paused, then slowly shook his head. “Oikawa was acting weird when I was helping him clean up. He kept looking at his phone and fidgeting. At one point his phone rang, and he went up to his office to take the call. When he came back he told me to leave and not to talk to you because he said you were a traitor. Obviously, I thought that was bullshit. But I don’t know why he decided to say that.”

“He could have found out Bokuto was with me,” Kuroo guessed, “but I don’t know how that would make me a traitor.”

Again, Kenma shook his head. “I don’t know either. Maybe he just wanted me to get out quicker, since he knew you were fine. He’s always been dramatic. But,” Kenma smiled sadly, “I wanted to say bye. For now. We could end up in prison together but I figured I owed you this, until then.”

Kuroo grinned back. “Aw, you’re gonna miss me!”

Kenma huffed and looked away. “Don’t act so surprised. We’ve worked together for a while now.”

“Still…” Kuroo trailed off, still smiling smugly. “Will you miss Oikawa? You’ve worked with him for even longer.”

Kenma wrinkled his nose. “I will not miss him, no. And I’m going to leave now too.” He started to stand, but Kuroo stuck out a hand.

“I’m sorry, I’ll stop, I’ll stop,” he said. Kuroo dropped his hand and sighed. “On a different note, I told you I was thinking of quitting in the future, right?”

Kenma hummed. “Right. Is your brother going to be able to afford his schooling until you find a new job, though?”

“He’ll have to at least until this is resolved, one way or another,” Kuroo said, “but I haven’t really gotten in touch with him in a while. Shit, I’m really not a great brother, am I?”

“I’ve never had a brother,” Kenma said, then ducked his slightly-reddening face. “But from what I’ve seen, I don’t think you’d be a bad brother.”

Kuroo smiled. “Thanks, Kenma.”

He shrugged, but he caught the small smile behind the curtain of hair. “Don’t worry so much. You’ll figure something out, I’m sure.”

“Yeah, thanks.”

The shower shut off and they heard Bokuto fumbling around in the bathroom. “How’s it going with your new roommate?” Kenma asked before looking back at the bathroom door. Behind it, Bokuto dropped what sounded like a bottle and cursed.

“Pretty good, actually,” Kuroo said. “He’s not horrible to be around.”

“Glad to hear it.” Kenma glanced around the tiny room. “Make sure you both have your space, since you can’t exactly go out whenever you like.”

Kuroo groaned. “Yeah, really trying not to think too much about that. We’re getting a bigger bed which I’m hoping wasn’t a financial mistake.”

“You’re sharing a bed?”

“Bokuto convinced me to get a fold-out. I’m sure I could squeeze the futon in next to it, but he’s not so bad to share a bed with.”

In response, Kenma hummed. “Be careful. You don’t know this guy.”

“What, you think he’ll start to steal all the blankets?”

Kenma rolled his eyes. “I meant in a more general sense. He’s hardly more than an acquaintance who could have been lying to you.”

“Kenma,” Kuroo scolded. “Did you not hear the whole ‘possible assassination attempts’ thing? That’s not just something you make up. And besides, he’s not like his father.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I mean--”

Kenma stuck up a hand. “I’m not saying he  _ is _ lying. He could be telling the truth. Just… you have good instincts and intuition, make sure you’re listening to them.”

Kuroo paused, and thought for a second. He thought back to Friday night, how his instinct had grabbed hold of Bokuto. How his intuition had driven him to cheer up and assure Bokuto yesterday. How he felt Bokuto being incapable of deception while talking with Kuroo.

But Kenma was right. He couldn’t totally relax. It was all still risky and he wasn’t with someone he felt he could rely on in a life-or-death situation. Which this could very easily become.

Kuroo nodded seriously at Kenma. “I won’t ignore them. Promise.”

Kenma nodded, satisfied, and stood up. “I hope you both manage to make it through okay.”

“Thanks, Ken,” Kuroo said softly, standing too. “You too. And I hope you can finally make that game you’ve told me about.”

Kenma snorted. “Maybe now I’ll finally have time.”   
  


Kuroo didn’t ask where he was going, or what he was going to do after this. It wasn’t his place to know. It was sad, but in a way Kuroo knew this was how it was going to end. 

He still remembered the day he met Kenma in the bar, how he’d walked in desperate and scrambling for money. How Kenma had bumped into him, and offered him a business card for the firm.

_ “We need a new person for reception. If you can keep a secret.” _

Bur Kuroo really was desperate. And he promised himself that night he’d do it for Hachirou, whatever it was. Because he knew there would be no going back from what he’d already done, so what was one more transgression?

“Hey,” Kuroo muttered as they stood in the entry hall, Kenma slipping his shoes back on. “You saw me that night before we met, right? On the roof?”

Kenma straightened up. “Yeah. You took out one of my targets before I could get to him, when I still did field work. I always wondered if you knew.”

“I mean, it was kinda weird to offer a job as a hitman to some stranger.”

Kenma huffed out a laugh. “Oikawa thought you were hot. Your murder skills were not the first thing on his mind, unsurprisingly.”

“I mean, when you’re looking at a face like mine, who could notice a gun to the head until it was too late?”

“His point exactly.”

Kuroo smiled grimly. “This might be weird to ask, but do you remember his name?”

“Why?” Kenma asked. 

“I know it was a while ago, Kuroo muttered, “but I try to know all the people I killed by name and face. And I got nothing for him.”

“Natsuko, I think.” Kenma rested his hand on the door jam. “He was a failing business man with mob ties. He hadn’t paid his dues in a while.”

“Did he have a family? A wife, kids?”

Kenma wrinkled his brow. “Do you really like to know this much about your targets? Wouldn’t you feel more guilty?”

“We’re supposed to feel guilty,” Kuroo said, “because we’re killing someone.”

“I learned the bare minimum for him. Sorry.”

Kuroo nodded obligingly. “Nah, no worries. I get it. I’m somewhat of an emotional masochist, according to Oikawa.”

Kenma smirked. “You are. The files for you were always so much bigger than everyone else.”

After that, they said their final goodbyes and Kuroo was just relocking the door when a pink and pruny Bokuto emerged with a cloud of steam.

“Did Kenta leave?” He ran a towel over his head, looking around. “That was quick.”

Kuroo decided not to correct him on Kenma’s name (which Kenma would probably appreciate) and replied with “He’s a busy guy.”

Bokuto nodded. “I get it, yeah. Probably has to go job hunting now.”

“Yeah,” Kuroo laughed. He watched Bokuto moving around the room, talking about some dream he’s remembered in the shower, and thought about what Kenma said.

_ Make sure you’re listening to them. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hated chapter 7 so I hope this is better :)


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Normal life and Kuroo is struggling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really quick before you start: I'm opening up commissions for fic in exchange of donations to the BLM movement, please check my tumblr @goodgollywrites for more info and the deets.

They’d been living together for about two weeks and had more or less settled into a routine. They normally woke up around nine, with Kuroo showering while Bokuto did an improvised workout with bottles of water. Though he bemoaned the loss of muscle mass from lack of actual equipment, he got a lot happier after Kuroo bought two bottles on day two or three of isolation. He’d found various other things around the apartment to use as well and blasted music in the mornings that woke both of them up. They made and ate breakfast together, Bokuto showering after, then watched television or played video games until Bokuto got hungry again. 

The afternoons were much more solitary-- they retreated into their sides of the apartment (Bokuto got the table and kitchen area, while Kuroo got the fold-out and window. The TV was split custody.) Bokuto cooked and baked almost obsessively now and constantly asked Kuroo to buy him weird things from the store. More often than not, the result was at least decent. Meanwhile, Kuroo mainly read all the books he’d told himself he’d read someday for years. And there were a lot of those. While the days that they’d initially figured out the sides had been rough, especially since Bokuto was used to a much larger space, it was helped greatly when they hung a opaque shower curtain as a visual reminder to both of them.

Still, Bokuto occasionally peeked around the curtain to ask for Kuroo’s opinion on whatever the latest dish was and Kuroo was happy to comply.

Suga, Daichi, and Kiyoko had come by for a visit one afternoon, checking on Bokuto’s shoulder, touring their living situation, and dropping off a wad of cash. When Kuroo had immediately tried to push it back to Kiyoko, she firmly refused.

“You can pay us back when you’re working again,” was all she allowed and shut down any more protest with a cool glare.

It was hard to argue with her, especially since rent was due the next day, so Kuroo pocketed the cash unhappily.

Evenings were together time again. The curtain was pulled back and they settled into the rhythm of dinner, sometimes drinks, and either more games or bad reality shows. Bokuto knew a site that had pretty much all trashy Western shows but most of the subtitles were so poor Bokuto pretty much just translated what he could verbally as it happened. 

“How many languages do you know?” Kuroo asked one night after watching a few episodes of  _ Floribama Shore _ . Kuroo and Bokuto had both struggled to follow, but Kuroo picked out that they had argued about chicken (which seemed like a perfectly reasonable thing to argue about, though he'd probably missed some of the finer points.)

Bokuto frowned and rubbed his jaw. There was a dusting of stubble that scratched under his palm. “I can only read, speak, and write in Japanese, but I'm pretty good with English and Vietnamese, and I understand some Mandarin and Hindi.”

The English wasn’t surprising since he’d lived in England a while, and Mandarin and Hindi weren’t either when considering his father’s work. “How do you know Vietnamese?” 

Bokuto smiled widely, face growing soft and warm. “My mom is Vietnamese. She doesn’t speak Japanese very well so I speak Vietnamese with her and her family.”

Kuroo opened his mouth, then closed it. Then opened it again. “So your mom is,” he waved a hand off to the distance, “alive in Vietnam?”

“Yep!” He nodded enthusiastically. “My parents split when I was a baby and she went back to Vietnam. I saw her again for the summer when I was six and I’ve been in contact with her since then.”

He then paused with slumped shoulders. “She’s probably worried that I’m not calling her.”

Kuroo had learned that it was best to uplift Bokuto early on, or he’d spiral all night until he exhausted himself. “I bet she’s proud to have such a big, strong guy like you for a son.”

Bokuto chuckled. “She always makes me fix everything in the house when I come to visit. It’s always ‘Văn Bao, I’m so glad you’re here. Can you go clean the garden? Văn Bao, I’m tired, can you help your uncle fix the fence?’ even though she knows I’m terrible at that stuff. I think she just likes to brag to her friends that I’m a helpful son when I visit her.”

Kuroo tried to picture Bokuto, who couldn’t figure out how to fix the jammed window only a few hours ago, fixing a fence.

Bokuto drew his knees to his chest, wrapping his arms around himself. “I wish I could live with her,” Bokuto mumbled into his knees. 

“Why don’t you?” Kuroo asked, then immediately regretted it when Bokuto’s face shut down. 

“Dad threatened to stop paying for my aunt’s insulin if I left,” he grumbled, “and they can’t afford to pay for it on their own.”

“Maybe when this is all over you can,” Kuroo suggested reassuringly, but he knew Bokuto needed distraction so for the rest of the night Kuroo let him beat him at Mario Kart.

If there was ever a question of Bokuto being a part of Kuroo’s life, their apartment was all the proof needed. All over the apartment, there were signs of Bokuto. His clothes were strewn around and intermingled with Kuroo’s, creating a sea of colorful athleisure wear. His “workout equipment” sat in a pile in the corner. There was a perpetual pile of dirty dishes in the sink. And the fold-out, taking up a large portion of the room, was the most obvious testament to Bokuto’s presence in Kuroo’s life. 

Kuroo was also having to face a problem as a direct result of him being there: being platonic with Bokuto was  _ hard. _

Bokuto was inescapably attractive-- he not only walked around the apartment half-clothed and showing off his body constantly, he was also thoughtful, kind, and made Kuroo laugh more than he had laughed in a long time. And his voice,  _ oh god _ , his voice was dangerous for Kuroo’s heart. When he woke up in the mornings, his voice was scratchy and uneven. When Kuroo showered he could hear Bokuto singing along to his music with so much joy that Kuroo could feel his heart lift. And Kuroo almost wanted Bokuto to win every game they played so he could hear his victory cheers.

Bokuto was so touchy, too, and was constantly reaching for Kuroo. He reached to grab Kuroo’s arms, to lay a hand on his back or shoulder, and knocked his knees and feet against Kuroo’s when they sat on the floor or fold-out.

Kuroo was pretty sure he didn’t mean anything by it. It just seemed like he did it out of habit more than anything else, or as a way to seek comfort. However, thinking that didn’t help Kuroo stop falling for him. But he was determined to stay on task, the task being keeping Bokuto and himself safe while also not introducing any new distractions.

About two weeks since they’d started living together, they got an email from Akaashi saying they were closing in on a lead and he had found a lawyer willing to work with them. This was a cause for celebration for them. Kuroo even went out and bought tequila for Bokuto for the special occasion.

“Kuroo!” Bokuto called as Kuroo returned from the store. He had a heaping plate of meat and vegetables and was playing Animal Crossing in front of the TV. He waved him over, then beamed at him before waving the Switch in his face. “I got us Nikoban!”

“Nice,” Kuroo said, then placed the tequila next to Bokuto. His eyes flicked over, then lit up.

“Is this for me?” He looked like he was on the verge of happy tears.

Kuroo nodded, and walked to pull out the shot glasses from the cupboard. “Thought you deserved a little party.”

Bokuto whooped, setting down the Switch and cracking open the bottle. “This smells like bad decisions,” he whispered, taking a deep sniff in. He tipped it back, and hissed. “And it tastes like it too. This is, like, the cheapest stuff I’ve ever drank.”

“Hey,” Kuroo warned, waving a finger scoldingly, “we’re on a tight budget. I found what I could.”

After dinner and a few rounds of shots, and a couple games of poker where they bet Bells, Bokuto proposed they watch something.

“You’re just mad that I keep winning,” Kuroo gloated, which earned him a shove. 

“No,” Bokuto spit back before taking a drink out of the bottle. “I want to watch more  _ Too Hot to Handle _ . Because you’re clearly cheating.”

Kuroo held a hand to his chest, mock offended. “Counting cards is smart, not cheating.”

Still, Kuroo conceded and set up the laptop to watch the show while Bokuto turned out the lights. 

“Okay, take a sip every time they almost break a rule, or do break a rule,” Bokuto instructed, crawling up next to Kuroo on the fold-out. Bokuto moved in close to Kuroo, resting his leg on top of Kuroo’s lap and crumpling a pillow under his side. Kuroo glanced over at Bokuto and saw he was already engrossed in the show. His shirt was hiked up to his abs, and Kuroo admired his stomach freely. It wasn’t totally flat but the rolls were cute, and not for the first time Kuroo wondered what it would be like to kiss them. 

His gaze traveled further down, down the thin line of hair on his stomach that stopped at the waistband of his boxers. Bokuto was wearing baggy black sweats that, upon closer inspection, Kuroo was pretty sure were actually his. The realization, for some reason, tugged at something hot in Kuroo’s gut. He shoved Bokuto’s leg off his lap and stood up, pretending to get a glass of water when Bokuto looked up in slight alarm.

“Sorry,” Kuroo said quickly, but he couldn’t get the image of pulling those pants off him and burying his face between those strong thighs. He could almost hear the sounds Bokuto would make as Kuroo worked, the moans and gasps echoing in his mind. He could feel Bokuto’s fingers knotted in his hair and his legs shaking on his shoulders. He could taste--

“You okay, bro?”

Kuroo was jerked back to reality and saw Bokuto’s confused face illuminated by the laptop. He’d zoned out staring above the sink while his cup overflowed. He shut the faucet off and grabbed the cup, chugging it with a thumbs up to Bokuto.

Bokuto didn’t look convinced, but he was drawn back into the show after someone started yelling. 

Kuroo mentally counted back to the last time he’d been laid. It’d been a while.

“Kuroo, take a drink! They just kissed!”

_ God, I wish that were me. _

It was nearing one when Kuroo finally cut them off, prying the bottle from Bokuto’s fingers. “We don’t need to drink it all tonight,” Kuroo reminded him. But Bokuto just whined.

“I haven’t even puked yet, not even close.”

“That’s a good thing.”

“Maybe for you, but I’m bored. I can’t even leave the apartment to go to the store. I need excitement in my life.”

Kuroo had learned that it was just best to let Bokuto work through these things without responding.

Sure enough, as soon as Kuroo returned from putting the bottle away, Bokuto was opening his arms to Kuroo.

“Come cuddle me,” he pleaded. 

Kuroo snorted. It was hot that night, but Bokuto’s arms wrapped around his waist and pulled him down next to him, and Kuroo let him. Kuroo leaned against Bokuto, shifting so he could still see the screen even though he was only half-watching now. The sleepiness was starting to set in and his brain was slowing down. Translating English was too much work.

“Hey,” Kuroo slurred, looking over at Bokuto. 

“Hey.” His jaw was silhouetted against the screen’s glow, lips glowing blue-white. 

Kuroo felt his mouth dry up as Bokuto’s gaze rolled over him. Was he imagining it, or had he just bit his lip? He probably did imagine it-- the lighting wasn’t great and he was not sober.

Kuroo suppressed a shiver as Bokuto dragged a hand through his hair. “I didn’t know you had curly hair,” he whispered, finger tugging a curl under his ear lightly. Kuroo shrugged.

“It really only curls in humid weather.”

“They make you look even cuter,” Bokuto said, “which I didn’t know was possible.”

“Hmm,” Kuroo grumbled slowly. But Bokuto’s fingernails dragged bluntly across his scalp, and whatever Kuroo wanted to say next was swallowed in the feeling. He groaned, barely moving closer, but that was enough for both of them. Bokuto brought his other hand to Kuroo’s head and tugged sharply, inciting a quick gasp.

“Oho?” Bokuto seemed like he wanted to be teasing, but it ended up sounding closer to something more serious. It worried Kuroo.

Kuroo felt his eyes drift close. “Shh,” he shushed, “I’m drunk.”

He felt a hand snake down to the nape of his neck as the other worked through the mop of his hair. Bokuto’s fingers were magic-- they worked through the knots painlessly while winding through the half formed curls at his hairline simultaneously. Kuroo was definitely fading now. He was half asleep when Bokuto shifted and jostled them both.

“Sorry, sorry,” he said, too loud, but smoothed his hands down Kuroo’s back placatingly. Kuroo laughed and sat up, trying to extract himself, but Bokuto’s hands on his shoulders stopped him.

Bokuto’s gaze was burning and calculating, searching Kuroo’s face for what felt like an eternity. Then asked “Don’t you like me?”

_ Yes _ is what Kuroo screamed in his mind, what every cell in him was screaming, what Kuroo wanted to say. And he almost did. But they were so close to Akaashi and the lawyer making a case. And he didn’t want to do anything to jeopardize this.

So he pulled back, shaking his head. “It doesn’t matter.”

He would have given anything not to see the look of hurt that flashed across Bokuto’s face. It was as if he’d been slapped, as if Kuroo had slapped him. But Kuroo couldn’t verbalize his worry if he couldn’t even think straight in his mind.

“We should get to bed.” Kuroo stood up, placing the laptop on the floor and heading to the bathroom. When he closed the door, he leaned back against the door and breathed deep. It felt wrong, but he knew he couldn’t kiss Bokuto while they were both drunk. There was too much at stake and he didn’t trust either of them to be responsible for what might happen after, good or bad.

When he finally finished in the bathroom, he was faced with Bokuto’s back. He was curled in a ball on his side, not reacting as Kuroo flopped down next to him. Kuroo knew he wasn’t asleep, but he resisted the urge to reach out and instead closed his eyes and tried to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in case you missed it, I'm opening up commissions for fic in exchange of donations to the BLM movement, please check my tumblr @goodgollywrites for more info and the deets.
> 
> I'm so tired and I barely edited this, but I felt really bad about not having an update for this in a while. I was protesting yesterday and i'm headed to another protest later today so I wanted to get this out in the world before that. sorry it's not as long as others have been-- but I think I know about how many chapters its gonna be and we're getting towards the end. Thank you to everyone who has been supporting this/me!! i really appreciate it, and I've really enjoyed this process.
> 
> please consider a donation commission if you're financially able to do so and see you all soon!


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kuroo and Bokuto talk it out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> note the rating change!! if you're uncomfortable with smut, as soon as it starts getting too spicy for your tastes, you can be done reading! nothing plot important happens after in this chapter

The end was in sight. 

_Just a few more days,_ Akaashi wrote in his last email, _I just have one more person to interview then we’ll bring what we have to get Bokuto’s dad arrested. Keep laying low._

Easy for Akaashi to say. Since Kuroo had rejected Bokuto a few days ago, the energy in the apartment had shifted. Bokuto was a lot more subdued now and rarely reached out to touch Kuroo. And when he did, he always flinched back like he was remembering himself. He spent most of his days napping, staring out the window, or watching TV. 

At night, when he was able to sleep, Bokuto was restless. More than once, he’d woken Kuroo by jerking awake with gasps or shuddering, but he always closed himself in the bathroom. When Kuroo tried to talk to him, he got unenthusiastic responses or nervous sounding ones. The only time he perked up was when Suga, Daichi, and Kiyoko came by for a (likely) final visit.

“I’m glad your shoulder has healed,” Suga said, looking at the wound carefully. He beamed at Bokuto. “Being in such good shape probably helped.”

“Look-- it doesn’t even really hurt any more.” Bokuto flexed it experimentally, grinning at Kiyoko and Suga when he was able to do it without wincing. They clapped politely as Bokuto puffed up proudly.

From the kitchen, where he was brewing tea for all of them, Kuroo watched as Suga examined Bokuto’s range of motion. 

“You’ve been quiet,” Daichi noted, causing Kuroo to jump slightly. Kuroo brushed him off with a shrug.

“I don’t have a lot to say.”

Daichi looked doubtful but didn’t press him. Instead he asked “So how’s it going with Bokuto?”

Kuroo bristled. “It’s fine.”

“Oh, really.”

“Really, Sawamura. How’s it going with Suga and Kiyoko?”

“Better than fine, but you knew that. What’s your problem?”

“Me?” Kuroo chuckled. “I don’t have any problems.”

But Kuroo bit his lip. He could probably trust him with the vague outlines of what was happening between Kuroo and his roommate. He figured it wouldn’t put Daichi in danger. So he grabbed a pack of cigarettes from a drawer and nodded to the door. “Smoke break with me?”

“I thought you quit,” Daichi said disapprovingly but followed Kuroo to the door. Kuroo waved the pack as they passed the trio in the main room.

“That’s cancer in a box,” Suga threatened. Kuroo ignored him. He wasn’t in the mood for a lecture.

Once they were outside, Kuroo dropped to sit on the curb and lit a cig. He offered it to Daichi, who shook his head. “When did you start again?” He asked.

“I don’t think I ever really stopped, but I’ve had this pack for a few weeks if that’s better,” Kuroo said smoothly. He took a drag and stared at the cloud he exhaled in disgust. “I know I should. But if I wanted a lecture I would have asked Suga to come with me.”

Daichi raised his hands placatingly and sat down next to Kuroo. It was evening now; bugs hit the lamp overhead annoyingly and a car in the distance beeped incessantly. “What’s wrong?”

“I mean, everything. I don’t want to say anything that could get you in trouble though.”

“How bad is it?” Daichi whispered.

“Well,” Kuroo said dryly, “after the current problem is resolved one way or another, I’m probably going to prison. For a long time.”

Daichi inhaled quickly. “What the hell, Kuroo,” he hissed. Kuroo shrunk away from his anger.

“I needed money to send to Hachirou. I didn’t have a choice, so when I messed up and someone gave me a way out, I took it.”

Kuroo laughed dryly. “But that’s not even what I’m mad about. I’m pissed because I’m scared.”

Ever so slightly, Daichi softened. “It’s okay to be scared. It sounds like you have some scary things happening.”

“Oh, no, not really about that stuff.” Kuroo took another drag, thinking. “Well, I mean it’s related. For sure. But I’m scared of messing up Bokuto’s life.”

“More than, I assume, it already has been messed up?”

“Right. See,” Kuroo started, “we could have a big court thing coming up. Probably a long, messy trial. And I don’t want to mess up Bokuto’s chances of getting justice.”

Daichi exhaled shakily. “Does it have anything to do with you showing up at our house two weeks ago?”

“Yes?”

“For fucks-”

“I’m sorry!”

But Daichi didn’t storm off. He sat quietly, simmering next to Kuroo, until he apparently collected himself enough to speak. “I hope you don’t expect any of us to lie. Suga is already probably going to lose his spot in his program because of this, if it’s that serious, and I don’t want any of us to get slapped with perjury.”

“Of course not. I’ve put you all through enough.”

Daichi nodded, relaxing a bit. He looked across the street as a stray cat picked it’s way down the sidewalk. Kuroo watched the cat too, smiling as it stared over at them impassively.

“Why do you think you’d cost Bokuto his justice?”

Kuroo was surprised Daichi still wanted to talk about this. “I, ah, think I like him. A decent amount. And I don’t want any sort of relationship we do or don’t have to impact his chances of getting justice.”

Kuroo didn’t need to look at Dachi to know what face he was making. He knew it was ridiculous to worry about this, out of all the things he had to worry about. He might not be able to live outside of a cell very much longer, or he could get so many of his friends in trouble for his shit. He could get taken out by Bokuto Hiroki’s agents at any second. But, maybe because he didn’t want to think about any of that, he was worried about his and Bokuto’s relationship.

“We both like each other, and I rejected him the other night because I was drunk and scared. The old Kuroo wouldn’t have done that, Dai-- the old Kuroo would have gone for it, consequences be damned because he didn’t worry all the time. But now all I do is drink and sleep and take way too long showers and _worry_. And now Bokuto hates me, which just adds more shit-factor onto my life at the moment.”

“You’ve always taken way too long showers,” Daichi pointed out. “But I don’t think it’s a bad thing that you’ve become more cautious. It’s probably the reason you’ve kept alive this long.” He reached out and laid a steady hand on his shoulder, looking at Kuroo worriedly. “I think-- no, I know you two have been through something really traumatic. Bokuto got _shot_ , Kuroo. That’s not something you bounce back from. And we’ve seen the news. You were at that club, the one that got shot up? And Bokuto is the son of that rich guy?”

Painfully, Kuroo nodded. 

“I figured. I mean, Kiyoko connected the dots the next morning, but it makes sense.” 

Daichi sighed, gripping his shoulder tighter. “Try and talk to Bokuto. He’s clearly hurting. And so are you. You two need to work out what has happened to you and what you’re going to do next.” 

Kuroo dropped the cigarette onto the ground and reached to pull Daichi into a hug. He fought back a full body sob, gripping Daichi’s broad back tightly while whispering “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry” endlessly into his neck. Daichi just held him. He was steady and reliable and Kuroo loved him and hated himself. How could he have dragged some of his closest friends into this?

Once he finally collected himself enough to be seen by others, they headed back upstairs. 

Suga opened his mouth to scold Kuroo’s habit but Daichi only shook his head before he could start. Kuroo saw that Bokuto was dressed again and had a cup of untouched tea next to him. He smiled, almost sadly, and patted the floor next to him. Kuroo obliged and sipped the tea. Cold, but still enough to wash the taste of cigarettes out of his mouth. 

When Suga, Daichi, and Kiyoko left, they sat facing each other from opposite sides of the table. Strains of music from Bokuto’s laptop amplified the silence. Kuroo wrapped his fingers around his empty cup, not wanting to meet Bokuto’s eyes when he said “I’m scared.”

“I am, too.”

Kuroo nodded. It was as good a place to start as any. “There’s no way I’m not going to prison if I survive this, and while I’ve always expected that, I didn’t want it to be like this. It’s like I’m trapped in my own home, which is supposed to be safe, waiting for someone to hunt me down.”

“I’m scared my dad is gonna finish me for real.” Bokuto’s voice was shaky and Kuroo knew if he looked up he’d start to cry. “Every time I sleep I remember the gun. I remember how it felt to sit on the ground and bleed and just not feel anything. That was the closest I’d come to dying and my body did _nothing_. I could have gotten up and ran, or fought back, or something. But my body wouldn’t do anything.”

Kuroo looked up then and saw streaks of tears and snot trailing down his face. “And,” he hiccuped, “now you can’t stand me. Through all of this we’ve been together and now it feels like I’m facing it alone. And that’s the worst, Kuroo.”

“Oh, Bo,” Kuroo sighed, sliding his hands palms up across the table, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I never wanted you to feel alone right now.”

And it was true. More than anything, Kuroo didn’t want to hurt Bokuto. He wanted to protect him from everyone and everything-- his father, the pain of heartache and suffering, a life of being known as the son that wasn’t wanted. 

Hesitantly, Bokuto took his hand. Kuroo squeezed. “I want to help you however I can. And I want to protect you, too, and I just don’t know how.”

Bokuto laughed hollowly. “You can’t protect me. You’re weaker than I am.”

“Hey,” Kuroo objected with a grin, “I’m still waiting for my arm wrestling rematch.” But he knew Bokuto needed to think, so he shut up.

“I don’t know how to feel better,” Bokuto admitted. “I think it’s finally catching up to me that Dad wants me dead. And that straight up sucks.” Bokuto shook his head. “And there’s nothing we can do about it right now. But I want you to stop avoiding me so I feel like at least someone cares.”

Kuroo smoothed his thumb over Bokuto's knuckles. They were surprisingly soft. “I didn’t mean to avoid you. I was just worried that I’d jeopardize you more, if we got closer. So I pulled back.”

“Is that all? You should have said that before,” Bokuto huffed, wiping his face with his free hand.

“It wouldn’t look good in court if you were with an assassin.”

“Maybe not,” Bokuto conceded, “but also, I’m not gonna be on trial and neither are my relationships to anyone besides my dad.”

They sat hand-in-hand for a few minutes, the most comfortable quiet they’d existed in in a long time. Kuroo was still rubbing Bokuto’s hand and Bokuto’s breathing returned to a much calmer rhythm. “Look,” Bokuto said finally, “the way I see it is that this is all gonna get really serious soon. And I don’t want to look back and wish that we’d done something when we had the chance. I’m an adult and I don’t need you to be worried about my image in court right now.”

“I know, but--”

“Do you have any worries about your own image?”

The question caught Kuroo off-guard. Did he? “I think,” Kuroo said cautiously, “if anything, being with you would boost my image. But I don’t know--”

“Stop worrying for me,” Bokuto said, standing up and walking over to Kuroo, “if I’m down, and you want to, I say we go for it. We’re already in deep shit, we’ve talked about feelings as much as I can right now, and I cannot think of a better way to piss my dad off in this very second than making out with the man who’s been keeping me safe from him. It’s not like we can really do anything else right now.” He kneeled down next to Kuroo, staring deep into his eyes with the same burning intensity that Kuroo had first seen weeks ago. 

_Intoxicating, dominating. And he was right. What else could they do?_

In a last ditch attempt to regain control, Kuroo looked away. “You’re sure you don’t need to talk more?”

Bokuto’s hands gripped Kuroo’s forearms. “We can talk later. And I want this now, if you want it.”

Kuroo was tired. He was tired of it all. He was tired of being scared and tired of being angry. And all he wanted to do was kiss Bokuto again. So he did.

He remembers kissing Bokuto for the first time-- how he tasted, how it felt like he was chasing him more than kissing him-- but that was leagues away from what it was like now. It was slow, deliberate, and sincere. He wasn’t leading him on and Bokuto wasn’t being lied to. 

He deepened the kiss, shifting so their bodies were closer, and cupped his cheek gently. He knew he should have shaved this morning as he felt his stubble rasp against Bokuto’s chin but the other man didn’t seem to mind. He wrapped his arms around Kuroo’s shoulders, threading fingers through Kuroo’s hair carefully. 

Their lips moved carefully. Both of them were holding back as the light overhead buzzed. Kuroo could hear Bokuto’s measured breaths through his nose, almost like he was meditating. It was weird to kiss Bokuto with so much restraint, since restraint wasn’t something that Kuroo associated with Bokuto, but he didn’t mind. He’d leave it up to Bokuto to lead them tonight.

He was so warm. He was like sunshine on a warm spring day, not burning like he’d been at the club. Kuroo would have been happy to sit here, chasing that warmth all night. But Bokuto apparently had other plans.

“Hold on,” Bokuto mumbled, pulling away. “Can we move somewhere more comfortable? My knees hurt.”

So Kuroo flipped off the light as Bokuto cleared off the fold-out. He could see Bokuto’s form outlined by the light streaming weakly through the window. Kuroo took a step towards him, reaching, and Bokuto met him halfway. 

They moved quicker now. 

Emboldened by the dark, Kuroo pushed Bokuto’s shirt up a few centimeters to press his thumbs into the divots above his hips. Bokuto shivered and grasped the front of Kuroo’s shirt, yanking their mouths together.

This was more like Kuroo remembered, but better. He could hear Bokuto now, all the sounds he made between kisses and how his breathing hitched as Kuroo trailed his hands up further onto his stomach. He could enjoy the way Bokuto moved closer to Kuroo on his own, not because they had been bumped together by the crowd. And he loved that Bokuto was leading Kuroo backwards onto the fold out, all while kissing him like Kuroo was all he needed.

Bokuto pulled back when Kuroo’s knees hit their bed, eyes burning but slowing enough to whisper “You okay?”

Kuroo nodded, letting himself fall back and pulling Bokuto down on top of him. Bokuto fell down easily and surprisingly gracefully. He leaned down and caught Kuroo’s mouth again, rolling his hips down as he sucked on Kuroo’s lower lip. Kuroo moaned and arched up. 

He didn’t miss the way Bokuto chuckled quietly as he moved his way down to Kuroo’s neck.

“God, Bo, you--” whatever Kuroo wanted to say next was buried by a deep sigh that was coaxed out by Bokuto’s teeth on his neck.

“Call me Koutarou,” the other man breathed into the shell of Kuroo’s ear.

Kuroo moaned again as hips rolled against him again. “Koutarou, Koutarou, Koutarou” he repeated, grabbing his hair and pulling his mouth back. They kissed again, Kuroo’s hands pushing up on Bokuto’s shirt. He could feel the slightly raised scars on his chest and he wanted to kiss them too. 

“Hey, Kou, can I take your shirt off?” Kuroo asked, the question barely out of his mouth before Bokuto was ripping his tee off. His stomach flexed as Bokuto threw it across the room-- Kuroo watched his movements hungrily. 

_I want to fuck you._

He knew he didn’t need to say it outloud, because Bokuto was pulling Kuroo’s shirt off too and bearing down on him with the most intensity he’d ever felt. 

“Yeah?” Bokuto rasped and Kuroo nodded. He grabbed Bokuto and flipped him onto his back, Kuroo on top now. He kissed down Bokuto’s chest, past the scars to his lower stomach, biting down on his hips and enjoying how Bokuto squirmed. 

“Hold on,” he said, placing a hand on Kuroo’s shoulder. Kuroo pulled away-- maybe the biting was too much. 

“How far are you wanting to go?” Bokuto propped up on his elbow, chest heaving and pupils blown wide.

“Far as you’ll let me go,” Kuroo said. He rubbed a hand across Bokuto’s thigh invitingly. Bokuto grinned. 

“Then you’ll go down on me?”

_Fuck. Yes._ “I thought you’d never ask,” Kuroo mumbled, already reaching to pull down the band on Bokuto’s pants. Bokuto shifted to help, lifting his hips with a laugh. Kuroo could feel his dick hardening, but he ignored the growing pressure at the moment.

“I’ve never seen someone so excited for this,” Bokuto said. Kuroo smoothed a hand down his bare calf. 

“Then you’ve been fucking the wrong people.”

“Apparently.”

Kuroo paused, looking around, then asked “Can you pass me a pillow? I’m gonna prop you up.”

Bokuto yanked one out of the nest of blankets and passed it over with a smile. Kuroo nestled in under his ass and leaned over Bokuto’s face. “I’m gonna make you feel good,” he promised. Then, after a final kiss, slid down between Bokuto’s thighs.

He felt Bokuto tense up as Kuroo kissed the soft flesh on his upper thigh, fingers fisting in the sheets. “God, Kuroo,” he groaned, “hurry up.”

Well, it’s not like Kuroo could refuse him. He slipped a finger in Bokuto’s cunt, feeling the wetness coat his finger. “Someone’s eager. You’re already so wet for me.”

“I’ve been waiting for a while.”

Kuroo looked up at him, smirking. “Oh really? How long?”’

“I wanted you to bend me over the bar that night, so a while.” Bokuto rolled further onto his finger. “Which is still something I could get into.”

“Good to know.” Kuroo flushed, pleased, and ducked down.

As Kuroo placed his mouth on him, Bokuto gasped harshly. “Fucking finally.”

Kuroo would have laughed if he weren’t so focused. He stuck a second finger to join the first while feeling for the spot where texture changed. 

He closed his eyes and sucked, tasting Bokuto on his tongue and the back of his throat. It was better than he’d imagined it. He was sharp and sweet, coating every sense in his heat and scent and taste. And he’d only just began.

He crooked his fingers gently and began petting inside his cunt experimentally. 

He heard every hitch of his breath, noticed how Bokuto’s fingers twitched in the sheets. Kuroo pulled back-- Bokuto growling at the loss-- and said “Pull my hair.”

Immediately, Bokuto tangled his fingers in his hair and tugged him back to his cunt. 

Fingers still rocking and trying to find a good angle and pace, he ran a flat, soft tongue over him. He felt and heard Bokuto shiver, involuntarily, as he kept going. 

Curious, he looked up and saw Bokuto was staring down at him, mouth dropped slightly open and propped up on his right elbow while his left fingers gripped Kuroo’s hair. The sight made Kuroo’s cock throb, mouth and fingers stuttering a bit as he grinded against the bed. 

He felt Bokuto’s walls squeeze around his fingers as he muttered “Fuck, Kuroo.”

Kuroo looked away as Bokuto flopped back down, trying to reorient himself while ignoring the rock-hard distraction growing in his pants. 

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed before he knew he found a good rhythm of stroking and licking-- Bokuto’s thighs inched closer to Kuroo and his other hand joined in on grabbing Kuroo’s head. He knew the trick was to be consistent so he settled in and listened to Bokuto’s babbling to feed his ego.

“Why didn’t we do this ages ago?” Bokuto whined, pushing his hips further into Kuroo’s face. “Why didn’t you tell me _fuck!_ ” 

Whatever Kuroo had just done was apparently good, because Bokuto forced his head down hard. “Sorry!” He let up immediately, but Kuroo just shook his head and pushed his mouth against his leaking cunt. Bokuto groaned, low and dangerous, and replaced his hands. 

It didn’t matter that his jaw was starting to ache-- he needed to show Bokuto he cared, and if this was one way he could do it, he’d keep going until Bokuto told him to stop. 

“You’re gonna make me-- make me cum,” Bokuto panted, “you’re gonna make me cum, Kuroo, make me--”

He bit back a cry as Kuroo twisted his fingers to fit a third one in. 

“Just like that, Kuroo,” he pleaded, “shit, keep going, keep going.”

Kuroo was more than happy to do that.

He kept building Bokuto up, feeling the way his walls started to tighten around Kuroo’s fingers and how his hips rolled against Kuroo’s tongue. 

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Bokuto’s thighs start shaking in tandem with a stream of “Kuroo, Kuroo, Kuroo” and he prayed to whatever gods were watching over him that his fingers wouldn’t give out now. 

Someone was listening because he soon felt Bokuto’s cunt clamp down on his fingers and a new coating of slickness coat his lower lip and chin. He savored the new, sweet taste as Bokuto moaned above him.

He helped Bokuto through his orgasm, mouth and hand still working until Bokuto’s shaking finished and his walls relaxed. Kuroo drew back, scalp, hand, neck, and mouth aching but extremely proud to see Bokuto’s dizzy stare focused on him with a grin. 

“Come here,” Bokuto commanded with open arms. Kuroo wiped his hand and mouth on someone’s shirt before flopping down next to Bokuto. 

“Good?” Kuroo asked. Bokuto snorted.

“Yeah. Really good.” He pulled Kuroo in for a kiss, apparently not someone who cared about the fact that he’d just cum in his mouth, plunging his tongue in. Kuroo let him lick into his mouth, barely moving his own jaw, until Bokuto pulled back.

“Now I wanna help you out.”

“You don’t have to,” Kuroo said. He didn’t want Bokuto to feel obligated, but Bokuto ignored him and cupped a hand on his bulge. 

“Do you want it?”

Wordlessly, Kuroo nodded as he bucked up into Bokuto’s hand. Bokuto smirked and tugged off Kuroo’s pants in one smooth motion. He grabbed Kuroo’s cock through his boxers, pumping it teasingly. “How do you feel about me riding you? My muscles aren’t just for show, you know.”

“I’m not gonna last long,” Kuroo warned. Bokuto shrugged. 

“You’ve already made me cum, now it’s your turn.”

Kuroo directed Bokuto to the box of condoms he kept in the bathroom while he shucked off his boxers. His cock ached in anticipation as Bokuto came back out, tearing open the plastic packet with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “Lay down, Kuroo,” he instructed, pushing him down and swinging his leg to straddle him.

He rolled the condom on Kuroo’s cock, rubbing the length a few times before climbing to line up. 

“Ready?” 

Kuroo nodded, then moaned as Bokuto sunk down. Bokuto was breathing deeply as he slid down slowly, eyes closed as he reached the base of Kuroo’s cock. Kuroo rubbed Bokuto’s thigh as he felt him stretching around his dick. 

A few seconds later, Bokuto opened his eyes and smiled at Kuroo as he bounced. “’M good, just haven’t done this in a while.”

Kuroo hummed encouragingly, then pressed his head back as Bokuto took him all in again. And again. And again, picking up speed with each thrust. Kuroo wasn’t normally loud during sex but something about Bokuto made him breathe more erratically.

“Do I feel good?”

Kuroo panted, meeting Bokuto’s needy gaze. “You feel good, Koutarou.”

This made Bokuto shiver as he fell into a rhythm. “How good?”’

“So good. You’re the only one that can make me feel this good,” Kuroo said, resting a hand on Bokuto’s hip, “no one can do me like you.”

Bokuto sighed, going faster as Kuroo bucked up into his cunt. “Am I gonna make you cum?” He asked. 

“Yes, fuck, yes,” Kuroo groaned, feeling his orgasm building fast. He wasn’t normally this quick, but it had been a while and Bokuto was riding him like a champ. There wasn’t anything Bokuto did halfway, including sex, it seemed.

Bokuto slammed down onto Kuroo cock, thighs straining and arms braced on Kuroo’s chest, with an appreciative sigh. “Tell me what you want to do to me.”

“I wanna fuck you until you can’t think about anything but me,” Kuroo spilled out, “until you can’t think about anything but my cock, my fingers, and my mouth.”

Bokuto fisted a hand in Kuroo’s hair, yanking his head to the side to bite harshly at his neck. He fell to his knees, hips still thrusting onto Kuroo, and sucked hard at his jugular. Kuroo hissed and relished the feeling, all the endorphins going straight to his cock.

He bucked his hips up further into Bokuto’s cunt. “Kou, I’m close,” he said, which got him another bite under his ear. His abdomen was tightening and he felt his movements becoming erratic.

“Come for me, then,” Bokuto whispered, and Kuroo did. He rammed his cock in deep, his release wracking through his body like a shock, and felt Bokuto pressing back against him.

When he opened his eyes again, he saw Bokuto’s beaming face mere inches from his own. 

“What’d I tell you? I’m pretty good.”

Kuroo laughed, running his hands down Bokuto’s back happily. “Yeah, you sure are.”

Bokuto grinned proudly. “Thank you, thank you.”

Kuroo got up and tossed the condom with a disgusted grunt. “No, thank _you_. That was the best fuck I’ve had in a long time.”

Bokuto patted the bed next to him invitingly. “Let’s hope it’s not the last time we get to do this, then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> look at me, posting on a Sunday. who do I think I am 
> 
> anyways do I think that they made good, healthy choices this chapter? not necessarily but I think that they've been put under a lot of pressure and they needed to release somehow so yeah, that's my defense in plot
> 
> also i haven't read a lot of fics with ftm characters having sex so i basically used language that i don't find triggering myself (as a afab author who identifies as male/nb) but please let me know if i fucked up!! I don't wanna trigger anyone
> 
> donation commissions are still open! if you haven't looked yet, and are interested in knowing more, please check my tumblr @ goodgollywrites (it's pinned to the top)


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kuroo has no self preservation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in this chapter, Bokuto Koutarou is either referred to as Bokuto or Koutarou, whereas Bokuto Hiroki is only referred to as Hiroki. Let me know if I messed that up anywhere (I did not proofread this very well)
> 
> Warning: Bokuto Koutarou gets deadnamed though he's not there to hear it

The next day was a blur. Kuroo remembered waking up in Bokuto’s thick arms and feeling utterly at peace while he watched his eyelashes flutter in his sleep. They ended up doing nothing in particular (read: had sex more than a couple of times) for most of the morning and afternoon in between naps and watching TV. Sometime around five, though, Kuroo became aware of the fact that he hadn’t really eaten a proper meal all day, and neither had Bokuto.

“How do you feel about those takeout noodles from the cart across from the store?” Kuroo asked, dusting a kiss on Bokuto’s forehead. Bokuto nodded enthusiastically, sitting up and pausing the show they were watching.

“Can you get the beef ones for me?”

Kuroo hummed in agreement and stood up. “I’ll be back quick. You can keep watching if you want, just catch me up when I get back.”

“M’kay,” Bokuto said, flopping back down on the bed happily. 

There wasn’t a line at the noodle cart today, surprisingly, and Kuroo was headed back to the apartment when he noticed the wind had picked up. It was whipping some windchimes into a frenzied song somewhere down the street. In the distance, Kuroo thought he could see darkened clouds but he supposed that maybe a little rain wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe it would cool things off.

In fact, it was already cool enough that Kuroo made a mental note to change into long pants when he got back to the apartment.

Weirdly enough, the door was unlocked when he got back. He was sure that he’d locked it behind him, but he guessed that it was possible that he hadn’t.

Also, Bokuto wasn’t on the bed. But maybe he was in the bathroom or something.

“I’m back,” he called, a habit he’d fallen into easily now that he lived with Bokuto. It always made his heart warm when Bokuto shouted ‘ _ welcome back _ ’ or something like that.

This time, though, the apartment was silent.

“Hey, you here?” Kuroo toed off his shoes, looking around as he set the food on the counter. The bathroom door was open and the light was off. The laptop was still playing their show. And Kuroo frowned. 

He looked back and saw that Bokuto’s shoes were missing. Maybe Suga had come by and taken Bokuto out. He'd mentioned that he'd like walk with Bokuto around the block one of these days, and Kuroo had agreed that it probably wasn't so bad when with Bokuto earlier. No reason to panic yet. Kuroo put the noodles in the fridge and glanced in the bathroom. Nothing. He grabbed a pair of sweatpants off the floor and tugged them on while still scanning the apartment.

He crossed over to the laptop and spotted a piece of paper on the keyboard. 

It was a typed address with a warehouse number. And Kuroo connected the dots as he grabbed his gun and a knife out from the closet.

Bokuto was in trouble, and he was being lured to him. 

The taxi took him as far as the warehouse district. Kuroo sprinted off, barely remembering to pay his driver before scanning the buildings for #039. When he got in the area of the 030s, he slowed and scanned for any signs of life.

“I was hoping you wouldn’t come.”

Kuroo looked up towards the voice to see a couple standing against a car between two shipping containers.

“Hey, Oikawa. Iwaizumi. Why are you here?”

Iwaizumi raised a hand in a half greeting while Oikawa smiled with empty eyes.

“We were monitoring your apartment when we saw Bokuto leaving with these two guys,” Iwaizumi explained.

Kuroo realized that it wasn’t surprising that they’d done that. Seemed par for the course.

“He’s not worth it. You know that,” Oikawa said, letting his smile stay plastered on just long enough to be unsettling. Kuroo wondered if they were going to kill him but his ex-bosses didn’t seem to be packing. Judging by the ragged state of Oikawa’s appearance, they’d probably had a rough couple weeks, and likely didn’t want to finish it up by killing Kuroo.

Kuroo felt his chest tighten as he shook his head. “You know this isn’t right. I can’t leave him here.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “I have to try.”

Oikawa’s smile fully dropped. “I don’t understand you, Kuroo. You always  _ have _ to be the hero. News flash: none of us are heroes.”

“I know,” Kuroo said stiffly, “but I want to be different.”

Oikawa leaned against the car heavily with a sigh. “Why start now? You’re going to die.”

“I thought you always said I have nine lives,” Kuroo joked, then shrugged concededly. “Living like a coward isn’t a life. This is a chance to turn it around.”

Oikawa laughed hallowly, rolling his eyes with a hint of a grimace. “I find it’s better than life in a body bag. But we don’t all have your unwavering nobility, I suppose.”

“You say it like it’s bad.”

“Nobility doesn’t pay my bills.”

Kuroo sighed, yanking a hand through his hair.  _ Maybe it wasn’t only nobility, but he doesn’t need to know that. He knew he was being stupid and he didn’t need another person to tell him that _ . “Look, why are you here, for real?”

Oikawa’s demeanor changed. He was serious about whatever came next. “I’m here to help you.”

“Oh? How?”

“I’m sorry that your first job had to go like this, Kuroo.”

“What?”

Oikawa glared at him and shifted so he was standing. “I know you were happy being a receptionist and I shouldn’t have forced you to do this. And I'm sorry that I threatened your brother, mother, and your friends when you said going to quit the company once you found out that we were going to make you do a job. I’m sorry I kept extensive files on all of them in the office.”

“Wait,” Kuroo grumbled, “you planted evidence?”

Oikawa leaned back against the car again. “Of course not. I just didn’t clean up all the files. I really was ready to go after any of them if you ever so much as breathed a word about your job to anyone, including that med student and his partners that you visit all the time.” He pushed out his lower lip and crossed his arms with a huff. “I’m a little offended, Tetsu-chan. If you needed a cute nurse I could have helped you out-- I’m better looking than him.”

Kuroo snorted then raised an eyebrow. “You went to med school and you still chose to live like this?”

“Well, not med school--”

“Then I’m glad I had my own cute nurse to patch me up.”

Oikawa tsked. He scuffed his shoe on the ground. “Hiroki fucked us over. I’m pissed as hell that I didn’t figure out that he set us up to get us all killed that night. Maybe he was friends with that guy from the records office that Kunimi offed a few months ago," he mused thoughtfully. "It wouldn’t surprise me, the guy did mention his ‘compatriots’ wouldn’t be happy, whatever that meant.”

Kuroo didn’t really remember that case, but he did remember Bokuto mentioning that his dad did know someone in some records office. “Why did he pretend to want to hire us for that night?”

“Hell if I know. Maybe he just wanted to shake us up?” Oikawa scowled. “It doesn’t matter. Either way, it’s the end of the line, Kuroo. I’ve found decent lawyers for us. Just remember that I threatened the lives of your nearest and dearest to make you do this one job.” He pulled out his phone. “I’m gonna call the cops in a few minutes to end this shit so do what you gotta do quickly.”

Kuroo hesitated and looked back at the pair of them. Oikawa’s face was shuttered, eyes downcast and mouth drawn into a firm but unfeeling line. Iwaizumi stood as a statue next to him, just as inscrutable, his eyes meeting Kuroo’s for a brief instant.

_ Go on _ he mouthed, tipping his head slightly towards the warehouse. Kuroo nodded and started walking off.

“Thank you, boss. Iwaizumi,” he called behind him, just loud enough to be heard over the wind. Oikawa’s head jerked up and he opened his mouth to say something, but Kuroo turned around and jogged to the warehouse. 

It wasn’t graceful jumping the fence and he narrowly avoided landing in a pile of glass on the other side. He hoped if Oikawa was watching him he hadn't heard Kuroo yelp. 

But he was outside the warehouse now and feeling slightly more apprehensive. He could see evidence of someone being there recently-- scuff marks on the ground, a couple cigarette butts, and a fresh takeout coffee cup. At least he was probably in the right place.

He crouched against the side of the warehouse, flicking the strap of his holster nervously, and considered his options. He really only had the choice of going in the front-- there would be no sneaking in here. All he had was a gun that he would probably lose as soon as he walked in, and a small blade in his sock that he would also probably lose. Besides that, he had his wallet, a chewed pen, and his apartment keys. 

And his nine lives. Though that number had probably dwindled in the past few months.

Not a great arsenal. 

With a jolt Kuroo realized he had no plan. He didn’t know what to expect, he had no back up except the cops that would probably arrest him and he really couldn’t trust to save anyone if they were sitting in Hiroki’s pocket, and he was going to have to deal with emotions during this time too. But he still had to save Bokuto or die trying.

Sighing as he stood, he looked up at the sky. The wind was definitely blowing in a sizable storm-- the temperature was dropping rapidly and air hung heavily around him. He wished he had worn something more than a thin sweatshirt and track pants with a sizable hole in the inner thigh.

_ What a shitty night to die. My ghost is going to be wearing some of my ugliest clothes for eternity. _

From inside the warehouse, there was a shout, followed by a chorus of deep laughter. Kuroo frowned. It was hard to tell how many people were in there, but it was at least three or four. Probably more. There was no way he was walking out of this thing unscathed and alive. 

For a moment he thought about what Oikawa said.

_ Body bag. _

Squaring his shoulders, Kuroo stood up and pulled out his pen and his wallet, flipping through its contents until he came across some old receipt.

_ to hachirou: _

_ love you. proud of you. don't get alcohol poisoning and don’t let aunt chika convince anyone she was my favorite aunt-- that’s auntie runa _

_ tetsurou _

He placed his wallet with the note peeking out of the top, the pen, and keys in an overturned bucket nearby. He hoped that if he did die, the cops would at least sweep the area or he’d have to live forever in the afterlife knowing that his Aunt Chika was spreading lies about him. With a final deep breath, he walked to the door of the warehouse.

When he knocked, for a second, there was no response. His heart pounded in his throat.

_ What the fuck am I doing. This is insane. Fuuuck. _

The door swung open and he was greeted with a familiar face.

“Alley slut.”

Kuroo grinned at the woman with an eyebrow piercing. “Discount villain.”

Her false smile was poisonous. “We were just saying that you were taking a while. I was worried we’d misjudged you, but I guess you were stupid enough--”

“Chatty as ever, huh?” Kuroo peered around her. “I can see why you got door duty. Nobody would miss having you around if I had shot you.”

Her face crumpled and she stalked away from the door dourly. Kuroo let himself in and looked around. To the right, rows of boxes wrapped in plastic stood five boxes tall. He saw a flammable warning on more than a few of them, which he hoped wouldn't be a problem later. To the right, two burly people stood a little ways off at the front of a hallway, large guns in hand and watching Kuroo warily. The woman slammed the door behind Kuroo and he felt a gun at his back.

Wearily he lifted his arms, and the woman grabbed his gun from the holster. She patted him down quickly, missing the blade in his sock, and pointed down the hall. Then zip tied his wrists together roughly.

“They’ll take you to the boss,” she said gruffly, tossing his gun onto a box by the door. “I hope you get your throat slit.”

“And you as well,” Kuroo lilted cheerily, heading down the hallway.

One of the bruisers sneezed as they passed by a series of rooms. Kuroo strained his neck to see if Bokuto was in any of them, but each of them looked just as empty as the next. 

“Looking for someone?” Teased the one with a neck tattoo. Kuroo bristled, but said nothing. He didn’t really have anything smart to say and he figured the less he spoke was probably better.

They eventually lead him up a clanging metal staircase to a room with huge windows that overlooked the warehouse floor. The building had looked deceptively smaller on the outside-- now that he could see the rows upon rows of boxes, he felt his head spin from vertigo. 

They forcefully sat him down in a chair across from an empty desk, facing towards the windows. Thankfully, Kuroo couldn’t see the floor from his seated height but even just knowing he was this high up was a little sickening.

_ Wait, do I have a fear of heights? No, not the time, Tetsurou. _

They looped and clinched a cord around his chest and the chair, repeating the process on both his calves. Kuroo felt his heart speed up as he felt one of them brush against his ankle, but they obviously didn’t notice it between all the goading.

“I hear that he has a special plan for you tonight.” One of them chuckled. “You should be pleased to be such an honored guest.”

“Nakagawa, Kenjirou,” a smooth voice called, “leave us. Get Tachibana and yourselves out of here.”

Kuroo didn’t have to guess who it was. Even with the usual grainy sound quality of his television gone, he recognized the danger behind him easily.

Once his underlings left, Hiroki walked in front of Kuroo and smiled. “I’m so glad I finally got to meet the famous ‘Obara Yuuma’ in the flesh. Nice to meet you, Kuroo Tetsurou.”

The first thing Kuroo noticed was his height; he was tall, probably just under Kuroo’s height. He had Bokuto’s burning eyes, and was twisting a large signet ring around his index finger with the same restless energy that seemed to come with the burning. He crossed to the other side of the desk and started to rustle around in the drawers as he spoke.    
  


“Mayu-- pardon, Koutarou, has been waiting very patiently for you,” Hiroki said carefully, watching Kuroo. 

Kuroo felt a rush of anger consume him for a second and he almost snapped. He’d intentionally messed up his son’s name, of course, to make him angry. And whatever he wanted to accomplish with doing so seemed to have happened based on his nasty grin.

“I’ve been worried sick about him, you know. Wondering where he was, who he was with, if he was safe.” He pulled out a series of objects and laid them out on the desk. A black cloth bag, a thick strip of canvas cloth, a bottle of some fluid, a lighter, and a small pistol. “Imagine my relief when I found out he was huddled up in some apartment near the Kasai station. And safe in the arms of some assassin, too.”

Kuroo kept biting his tongue.  _ Think, think, think. _

Hiroki frowned, and went to stand in front of Kuroo. “You’re quieter than I imagined. Somehow I thought you’d be a little more excited to talk to me, since I’m sure you’ve heard such terrible things about me from my slanderous son.”

When he seemed to accept that Kuroo wasn’t going to talk, he continued on his own. “I didn’t want to see him disgraced, if you’re curious. For the longest time I couldn’t see him taking my place in the company because of his lifestyle choices. I thought he was going to be too scared to do what it takes. But these past two weeks have given me a lot of space to think about what’s important. Family, and such. And I think he can learn.”

He sucked on his teeth. “I know it’s going to be a long road but I already have the first lesson planned.”

Kuroo felt his stomach plummet as he looked at the objects on the table.  _ Thinking be damned, I need to stall. Even the cops wouldn’t be so dirty to ignore a man tied to a chair. Would they? _

“I recognize my son’s handiwork here.” Hiroki dragged a cold finger down Kuroo’s neck, fingernail scraping against the bruises. “I can’t say I’m happy to see that he chose you, but I’m not surprised.”

“And I’m more than happy that he chose me,” Kuroo quipped, earning a disgusted grunt from the man in front of him. 

“So you do speak,” Hiroki said dryly, “color me surprised.”

“Just because I don’t speak to slimy bastards doesn’t mean I don’t speak at all.”

Hiroki gasped, placing a hand delicately on his chest. “You wound me, Tetsurou.”

He pushed his sleeve up to check his watch that was strapped to his wrist and sighed sadly. “Unfortunately, our time together is coming to a close. I need to get my son and wrap things up here. We have a dynasty to run, you see, and I need to burn this place and your corpse before my dinner meeting at eight.”

Kuroo stared at the table. Hiroki smiled. “I’ll take any last words you’d like to share now.”

Kuroo’s mind raced. That couldn’t be the end. He needed just a little more time--

“Where’s Akaashi?” Kuroo croaked. He tore his eyes away from the desk to see Hiroki’s face flash with anger. 

“That’s none of your concern.”

Kuroo laughed. “He managed to get away from you, did he?”

“That’s your last words?”

Kuroo saw his fingers inching towards the cloth gag and bag behind him and a strange sense of calm settled over him.  _ There’s no one coming to save you now.  _

With a newly cleared head, he smiled serenely up at Hiroki. “No-- my last words are that Koutarou felt great, and he tasted even better. He really is a gift from the gods, isn’t he?”

Kuroo heard the punch before he felt it. Hiroki’s chest heaved as he stood over Kuroo, on his feet and glowering at Kuroo. Kuroo kept his smile even though he felt like he was going to pass out. His jaw thrummed where he’d been punched, the vibrations of pain radiating down his neck and up to his temple. Hiroki grabbed the canvas and forced Kuroo’s jaw open with a growl. He tied the strip so tightly Kuroo dry heaved and felt his stomach lurch. 

“Pathetic,” Hiroki hissed, inches away from his face now. A spray of saliva coated Kuroo’s face as he spoke. “I bet you thought you could save Koutarou, didn’t you? But he’s a Bokuto-- there are just some fates you can’t save people from.”

He spit firmly in Kuroo’s eye and shoved the bag over Kuroo’s head, cinching a rope lightly around the base. “Now be a good boy and sit quiet while I get a special treat for you.”

Kuroo tried to keep his breathing even as Hiroki’s steps faded down the hall. He didn’t want to die panicking-- even though he was trapped, in pain, and looking down the barrel of a gun. Whatever came next, he tried to convince himself that he was ready for it. And he was pretty close to doing that until he heard people shuffling in the hall.

“...ready to show you something.” Hiroki was talking to someone, and Kuroo knew what treat he was getting.

“In here.” Hiroki pushed open the door and heavy steps stopped a few feet behind Kuroo. Kuroo tried to speak, but as soon as his tongue brushed against the cloth he gagged again. Hiroki huffed out a small sigh. “Stop squirming.” He felt a hand rest on his shoulder. “It’s not dignified.”

“Dad, who is that?” 

Kuroo screwed his eyes shut and he bit down on the cloth. 

“A man who stole something valuable from me. He threatened our company and our family.”

Bokuto sounded hesitant when he asked “And why is he here?”

Hiroki walked in front of Kuroo and picked something off the desk. Judging by the heavy scrape, Kuroo figured it was the gun.

“I’ve been thinking about you a lot these past few weeks. About how I was wrong before. I’ve made mistakes, but I want to put that behind us. I want to be your father and I want you to take over the company when I can’t do it anymore.” 

He heard the thunk of the gun changing hands. “And this is the first step. It’s easy-- he doesn’t have a face or a name, no family, no friends. Just some miserable thief that was too cocky for his own good.”

“Dad, I can’t--”

“Koutarou.” Hiroki’s voice was sharp. “Either I kill you both, or you pull the trigger and get to live. There is a right choice. Join the company, son.”

Kuroo heard the way Bokuto’s breath was shaking. It was the loudest thing in the room, even louder than Kuroo’s heartbeat.

“All I have to do is pull the trigger? And you won't try to kill me any more,” Bokuto’s voice wavered. Kuroo could picture the look on his face and wished he couldn’t.

“I’ve never been prouder of you, Koutarou. You really are my son after all, aren’t you?”

Kuroo heard the safety click and felt Bokuto’s resolution in the air, heavy as a steel sheet. 

“I’m sorry,” Bokuto whispered and Kuroo believed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *shrug emoji*
> 
> sorry it's a day late


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the resolution

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: child abuse mention (not graphic at all, just a few lines about trafficking)
> 
> Also ACAB but I couldn't think of a realistic way to not include cops (sorry)

The sound of the gun isn’t something that normally scares Kuroo, and yet he jumped when Bokuto pulled the trigger.

Then he registered that he was not dead.

“ _ Fuck! _ ” 

Kuroo felt fingers scrabbling at the back of his chair, grasping at the knotted cord, and he tried to wiggle a hand out. Eventually he got a slippery hand free as the bindings around his torso loosened. Behind him, he heard someone clanging around recklessly, and the hands disappeared. 

"I'll kill you myself—"

Kuroo tugged the bag off his head and reached into his sock.

_ Thank fuck they didn’t find this blade. _

He heard a struggle behind him but he couldn't think about that. He cut the cord— some kind of electrical cable, so it's not easy to do— on his ankles and managed to nick himself only twice. He couldn't even register it as an injury, his adrenaline was spiking so high. 

There was another  _ bang! _ and the light above them went out, raining down shards of glass on Kuroo’s back as he straightened up. The only light in the room now trickled in weakly through the windows so they were shoved into relative darkness. Still, Kuroo couldn’t slow down. He shook and yanked the cords off his body until he could stand to see what was going on behind him.

Bokuto had his father pinned on the ground, blood smeared on both of them though Kuroo couldn’t tell the source, and they were both straining to reach for something while still pushing the other down.

At Kuroo’s feet, there was a pistol. He didn’t hesitate before reaching to grab it. He checked the barrel quickly— three more bullets. More than enough. 

Kuroo closed it carefully and leveled Hiroki with a stare. With his free hand, he reached to tug the gag from his mouth. “Bo, get back.”

Unlike Kuroo, Bokuto did hesitate. His gaze flickered down to Hiroki, pinned under him with wide eyes and quietly pleading. Bokuto’s grip loosened but he didn't get off his father. “Kur—”

In that instant, two things happen. One, Hiroki bucked his son off almost effortlessly and sent him crashing to the wall. Kuroo could hear when Bokuto’s head cracked against it, a sickening sound that made Kuroo’s stomach turn

Two, Kuroo’s finger moved on it’s own and a bullet shot at Hiroki’s feet. Hiroki’s eyes flashed dangerously as he recoiled and scrunched into a sitting position. Kuroo aimed the gun at his head. “Don’t move,” he growled. He wanted to look at Bokuto and see if he was okay, but he couldn’t afford to let Hiroki go. 

Sighing, Hiroki raised his hands, but flinched and brought a hand to his side. “Hey, hands up,” Kuroo barked, wary of the fact that this could become a shoot out, but Hiroki’s hand came away coated in blood. 

“My bastard son shot me,” Hiroki croaked, looking somewhere to the right where Kuroo assumed Bokuto was. “But I guess I should have expected this sort of traitorous shit from you.”

Kuroo groaned. “Shut up, Hiroki. Your son is the reason your brains aren’t splattered on the floor. Say another word about him and I might change my mind.”

“I didn’t care about him,” Bokuto said thickly. Kuroo saw him stumble up from the corner of his eye. He staggered over and stood behind Kuroo, a hand ghosting over his back for a moment. “I don’t want us to have to fight a murder charge.”

“You think you’re going to get out of here?” Hiroki shook his head. “I love you, but I’m making sure we all go down.”

Kuroo feels the wetness seeping into his shoes and smells the tang in the air before he knows what’s going on. Some sort of fluid was leaking from under Hiroki’s blazer, the side where his wound was. 

Kuroo looked over to the table, where the bottle and lighter were supposed to be. Empty.

Hiroki splashed the rest of the bottle at them both, spraying their pant legs and tossing the empty bottle into the puddle between them. “Now, I believe we can have a little chat if you put that gun down.” In his left hand, he was grasping the lighter with white knuckles. In his right, he moved to clutch his side. 

The smell in the room was dizzying. It was the sharp, dangerous stink of the fluid, the metallic and oppressive press of blood, and the foreboding tang of ozone from the storm that Kuroo can taste in the back of his throat. He hadn’t noticed before, but rain is drumming down on the roof.

It’s calming. Strangely, he remembers running outside to play in the rain with his brother when they were younger. Kuroo never much liked the rain, honestly, but Hachirou always tugged him out onto the sidewalk or into the alley between their house and the neighbor’s to stomp in puddles while the rain soaked into their shirts and shoes. And even though their mom always yelled at them for bringing water into the house, he also remembers the way she’d wrap them in blankets once they shucked off their sopping wet clothes.

This felt like judgment day had finally arrived. And it was out of his hands. No matter how much he didn’t want to die, and how much he had wanted to take back all the actions that had led him to exactly this moment, and how much he wished he’d never seen the first guy he would kill grab that little girl, and how much guilt was crushing him— none of that mattered. 

And if there was a god or deities or spirits or something watching over him now, he just hoped they chose the option that gave him the best shot at making things right.

Kuroo raised his hands and put down the gun on the desk, which made Hiroki smile easily. “There we go. Thank you.” He stopped fidgeting with the lighter, instead straining to stand up. Neither Kuroo nor Bokuto moved to help him.

Once Hiroki was upright, he reached towards Bokuto. “Koutarou—”

Bokuto stepped back quickly. Hiroki’s hand dropped. “I do love you, you know.”

“You suck at showing it,” Bokuto snapped.

“Maybe,” Hiroki conceded. “But I helped you when I could. I paid for your surgery and hormones, sheltering you from the world while you transitioned, and I tried to train you to take over when you were in high school. It’s not my fault—”

“Fuck off!” Bokuto shouted, fists clenched at his sides. “You were a terrible parent. You took me away from my family, threatened me constantly, controlled everything I did, and you  _ did not  _ shelter me or whatever you said you did. You sent me away and lied to everyone about me. You only ever cared about the fucking company, so don’t even pretend that you ever cared about me.”

Hiroki’s nostrils flared. “You couldn’t live without my money so I had to keep working. I gave you a choice to stay in the UK and all you had to do was be self sufficient, which you refused—”

“You told me you were going to cut me off and stop paying for Auntie—”

“I knew you were going to throw that at me,” Hiroki laughed, fidgeting with lighter again. “Your mother’s family is poor because your grandfather was a lousy alcoholic and never cared about his children, so if you have a problem about not being able to afford insulin take it up with him when you see him shortly—”

“You won’t kill me.” Bokuto’s voice sounded cold, but Kuroo saw how his hands shook.

“Everyone on the ground, hands behind your heads!” The door burst open and four officers charged in, guns drawn. One of them did a sweep of the room, narrowing their eyes at the lighter in Hiroki’s hand and waving at it with their gun.

“Put down the lighter,” they said, as one of the officers circled around behind him. All of them, Kuroo noticed, gave the puddle on the floor a wide berth.

Hiroki paused, looking at his son. Bokuto was kneeling down on the floor— his knees hit the puddle on the floor and he clasped his hands on the back of his head. The officers stood as if frozen, watching as Hiroki sighed. He tossed the lighter in the corner and dropped.

Kuroo got a sharp shove for not kneeling immediately as well, but from his vantage point on the floor he could see the way Bokuto’s shoulders relaxed.

The chatter of the radio distracted Kuroo from the stench of lighter fluid on his shirt as he was shoved in the back of a car. He wasn’t sure what to do, but even when a medic at the station tried to chat him up while in holding, he kept his mouth shut except to say he didn’t need medical attention and he wanted legal representation before talking to anyone else. He only hoped Bokuto was doing the same.

Or, at the very least, that Bokuto was keeping himself out of trouble if he couldn’t keep his mouth shut.

**Eight Months Later**

Kuroo was uncomfortable. Courtroom chairs sucked, the suit was too scratchy, and his lawyer smelled like boiled eggs. But Oikawa had found a pretty good guy (“good” in the sense that he didn’t mind that they were all committing massive perjury, of course, and not good in the sense of morally upstanding.) Once Kuroo found out he was going to be charged with abduction, but Bokuto refused to testify against him, his lawyer had laughed.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been handed an easier case” he said, which had immediately eased Kuroo considerably. 

The series of trials had been an absolute media circus— Hiroki’s had been going on for the past three weeks, with a veritable cornucopia of charges being leveled against him and others under his employ (attempted murder, two cases of voluntary manslaughter, rackateering, and embezzlement to name a few) and would likely be going on for a lot longer. Oikawa’s and Iwaizumi’s trials had happened already, and though Kuroo had agreed to testify once, he really didn’t know how it went as far as sentencing.

Akaashi was also supposedly going to go on trial for something, too, but Kuroo wasn’t too concerned about that. In the brief time that he had known him Kuroo had figured the man could handle himself. Or was at least rich enough to avoid anything too drastic since it wasn’t like he’d murdered anyone.

It was really lucky that no particularly hardened cops had been assigned to his case; some of the evidence they’d found in Kuroo’s apartment was miraculously misplaced. They also hadn’t been able to force a confession from him since one of the primaries on the case had enough morals to not keep his lawyer from him or lock him in a room for hours alone, much to her partner’s chagrin. Without Bokuto testifying and refusing to press charges himself, the trial was little more than a formality. 

Suga didn’t even lose his spot in the program (though Kuroo suspected Bokuto and his money  _ did _ have a say in that.)

Kuroo walked out of the courtroom with a slap on the wrist. All he needed was forty hours of community service. 

(It was highly concerning that he got away with as much as he did, but he only hoped there weren’t as many people like him in the country.) 

The first thing he did was call his brother.

“Hachirou!” He shouted into the phone. On the other end, Hachirou groaned.

“Tetsu, it’s three in the morning,” he hissed. 

“So? You were probably up anyway.”

“Shut up. Why are you calling?”

“I got community service.”

“Wait, that’s it?” Hachirou’s voice lifted above a whisper. “Tetsurou, that’s great! So you didn’t get in trouble for your boss’s shit?”

Kuroo felt his stomach clench. He didn’t like lying to his brother, of course, but it was vastly better than the alternative and it wasn’t like he was planning on going back to it. Now that he’d stepped back from it all, he had briefly let himself spend a week feeling absolutely terrible about who he was and what he’d done until he decided to bury all memories and emotions while the trials were still going on. “Yeah, the jury agreed I was put under enough pressure to do a job. I was a little worried they wouldn’t believe me.” He leaned against a building. “I’ll let you off the phone soon and we can talk later, but did you get rent for the month?”

“Yeah, yesterday it got wired through,” Hachirou’s voice crackled through. “You’ll have to tell your friend thank you again. Next time I’m in Tokyo I’ll treat him to dinner or something.”

Kuroo laughed, picturing Bokuto and Hachirou sitting in some booth at a cheap family restaurant for lunch. “I’ll let him know.”

He let Hachirou go with a promise to call that weekend, and breathed in deeply. Truth be told, he hadn’t spoken to Bokuto in months. They were both caught up in everything, Kuroo with his own trial and Bokuto with his father’s, and the one opportunity that they’d had outside of conversations with Kuroo’s lawyer or police officers had been a consensus to end whatever relationship had developed during their time together.

Bokuto held Kuroo’s hand in his own hand firmly when he said “I hate how this all happened”

Kuroo agreed. “This was a terrible start to literally anything.”

Even though it wasn’t the happy ending that Kuroo ( _ maybe, a little bit _ ) had wanted he also knew it wasn’t viable. There was nothing that suggested that they would even work under normal circumstances. Nothing that a repentant assassin and a rich not-so-bratty brat would ever have a happily ever after ending for them. 

Bokuto had squeezed his hand and released him, fingers lingering just a beat too long on his wrist. “See you in court, I guess.”

“See you in court.”

Maybe it was time to see Bokuto again. But that was a new kind of scary that Kuroo really couldn’t face right now.

He could face a stiff drink, however. Pretty easily. And a cigarette but he had quit sometime a few months ago when he realized that it would suck to survive this whole mess only to die from lung cancer.

After quite a few stiff drinks, he heard his phone ding on the bar by his elbow. A group of businessmen laughed uproariously in the corner as Kuroo unlocked it to read.

_ hey hey hey congrats on the sentencing!! _

Kuroo grinned.  _ Thankssss man. Im free haha _

Bokuto took his time responding, not that Kuroo noticed. He was too occupied watching one of the businessmen harass one of his coworkers for not being able to handle his sake while sloshing his own over the table carelessly. When Kuroo looked back at his phone, a few messages awaited him.

_ hope your celebratin  _

_ hey you wanna meet up or smth _

_ its been a minute _

Kuroo paused, fingers hovering over the keypad. Whatever fear he’d held before was mostly gone as the vodka burned through his veins. And he kind of missed his ex-roommate. And he needed to thank him for Hachirou. So he typed out  _ sure thing _ without another thought.

Twenty minutes later he was standing outside Bokuto’s building. He was a little more drunk now, but he was still able to stand so he took that to be a good sign. 

He’d never been in Bokuto’s apartment, he realized. Just seen a lot of pictures and videos of it. He had a feeling, based on the elevator he took up to the top floor, it’d be a little more lavish than he was usd to.

“Kuroo!”

That was a fair assessment, he decided. Even the front door Bokuto opened for him was nicer than any door Kuroo was used to opening. Bokuto stepped aside and ushered Kuroo into a large dining room/living room. 

It was pretty Western and modern, and not much of it screamed Bokuto like he’d expected it to. Maybe it was because Bokuto had expanded to fill in the gaps in Kuroo’s tiny apartment and this place was huge, but this place just seemed… empty. Too clean, too tidy, and too much white and glass. 

Bokuto must have seen Kuroo’s perplexed look because he laughed. “I know, it’s hideous, isn’t it?”

He waved a hand to the smudgeless table with a gag. “I’ve always hated that. But all the furniture belonged to my dad’s friend and I haven’t really thought about changing it out.” He shrugged and walked further into the apartment. “Let me get you a beer.”

_ Hmm, should I keep drinking? _

The answer ended up being yes as Kuroo tipped back the beer that Bokuto had passed him happily. 

The silence between them stretched. They weren’t good at silence, Kuroo knew, but he couldn’t seem to find the words to break it. So he drank.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Bokuto started, then stopped. Then started again. “I mean, I know it’s not great but still. Glad it all ended up okay-ish.”

“I’m actually feeling pretty good, yeah,” Kuroo said. He felt his fingers tracing circles on the couch and he couldn’t seem to make them stop. “I hate myself and all, but at least I get forty hours of something.”

“What?”

Kuroo sighed, putting the bottle on the ground. He immediately knocked it over with his foot but neither of them moved to pick it up. “I’m not a good fucking person. I haven’t done anything good with my life in years, and I’ve actively done terrible things. Why did I not try to come clean about it?”

Bokuto hummed his lower lip against his bottle. “Do you really feel like you did bad things?”

Kuroo balked. “Of course I do. I killed people. That is  _ bad _ .”

“Who did you kill? And why did you kill them?”

_ This is weird. Does Bokuto have a wire on him? He probably does.  _

“Look,” Kuroo sighed, “if you’re trying to get me to confess to murder go ahead and take me, okay? I confess to all of them, every murder ever.”

He let his eyelids squeeze shut.  _ Tired _ . He felt Bokuto’s eyes on him as he whispered “I’m not trying to make you confess to anything. Do you know what all those men you killed had in common?”

Kuroo didn’t answer. As far as he knew, they were all Japanese and all of them had met their ends at his hands.  _ What more of a connection did they need? _

Bokuto got up off the couch and shuffled away. Kuroo felt like he was going to pick up his phone, tell the police he was ready to confess, when he felt a thick folder land on his lap. “What?” He flipped it open, but he was far too drunk to even consider reading it.

Bokuto must have sensed this, because he took the file and flipped to a page of pictures. It was all pictures of people Kuroo either vividly or vaguely recognized. All past targets.

In fact, it was every single one of his past targets.

“Why are you showing me this?” Kuroo knew all their names, and he could even recite a few facts for most of them. He scanned the page blearily, and pointed to one of them. “He liked tennis. I killed him in his car after one of his tournaments.”

“And he also participated in child trafficking.”

Kuroo wasn’t computing.

Bokuto’s light hand rested on Kuroo's arm, fingers squeezing just enough to be reassuring. "Akaashi figured it out when he was snooping. A few of these guys worked for my dad and he tracked down the rest when the cops took away all his stuff on my dad. They had ties to this ring where they— anyway, the cops kept fucking up the investigations and these guys were getting away with all kinds of stuff, until someone reached out to Oikawa with a huge list of names for everyone who was involved right before you started working there."

Kuroo frowned. "How did Akaashi figure it out?"

"One of the last interviews he did was with a guy named Wakabayashi, who apparently was responsible for the list.” Bokuto scratched the back of his head with a grimace. “Apparently he was having an affair with the pool boy of one of the creeps and found some papers for some exclusive “golf group.” Wakabayashi figured out it was actually a trafficking ring because of some picture they'd left laying around, then contacted Oikawa with the list," Bokuto explained. Kuroo raised his eyebrows. 

"If all that's true, then why didn't Oikawa just tell me that I was killing abusers?"

Bokuto shrugged. "Do you think he actually told you anything about them?"

"Of course he did—" Kuroo paused. He thought he did, but it’s not like he ever quizzed any of them about their hobbies while holding them at knifepoint. “Why would Oikawa lie about that, then?”

Bokuto raised his hands, deflecting any further questioning. “I don’t know, bro. But you probably were killing some pretty shitty people. If that makes you feel any better.”

_ None of us are heroes.  _ It was a mantra that Oikawa had said to him more than a few times. Had he meant that? Or had he just said that to keep Kuroo in line? And why would he have lied to Kuroo for years— was he just protecting him from knowing everything or was Bokuto wrong?

Whatever. He was too fucking drunk for this.

Growling, Kuroo flopped back on the couch. “Can I sleep here tonight?” He mumbled. Bokuto laughed.

“Course! We can share my bed.” Bokuto tugged his heavy, rubbery body up and it reminded Kuroo of their first night together. The association made him laugh, and when he explained it to Bokuto, he chuckled. 

“Hopefully this night goes better than that one did. Like less blood.”

Bokuto’s room looked a lot more like Bokuto. There were piles of clothes strewn around carelessly, a few empty bottles, a gaming system perched on his dresser with huge stacks of games balanced on it, and a volleyball sitting in the corner. Kuroo pointed to it gleefully.

“We should toss that around later.”

Bokuto nodded enthusiastically. “Hell yeah! I can get Akaashi to set for us.”

“He played?”

“Course he did! He was the best setter.”

Kuroo grinned and fell down onto the bed. “Awesome.”

Bokuto helped him take off his tight suit pants, clearing his throat as Kuroo attempted to unbutton his shirt. “Need help with that too?”

Kuroo dropped his hands with a huff. “Maybe.” This close, Kuroo could smell the same cologne that he’d smelled the first day he met Bokuto. Unthinkingly he leaned closer. “You smell good.”

“Thanks.” Bokuto cleared his throat again, firmly looking at the buttons on Kuroo’s shirt. “There you go.”

Kuroo pushed the shirt off his arms, dropping it gracelessly on the floor, and leaning back on his palms. “My hero.”

Bokuto did a weird half-bow with an uneasy laugh. “At your service.”

He sat down next to Kuroo, clasping his hands firmly in his lap. The two of them looked out the window and listened to the distant wail of a siren. 

“I’m selling the company,” Bokuto blurted out. “And I’m visiting Vietnam for the rest of the spring and the summer.”

Kuroo wasn’t surprised to hear it. “I bet your mom will be happy.”

“Oh, she’s already told me I’m going to help in the garden every day. She’s got it all planned out.” He puffed up and flexed his arms. “But I’ve been lifting more. Look at these gains.”

“Wow. You could probably pop my head off my shoulders if you wanted to.”

“I could do that before,” Bokuto griped, “come up with a better compliment.”

They talked easily, slowly melting back into the bed, as Kuroo started to drift off. “Bo?” he whispered.

“Mm.”

“I’m glad we met.”

“ ‘m glad too.”

“An’ even though I’m gonna miss you when you’re in Vietnam, I’m glad you get to see your family.”

Kuroo heard Bokuto shuffled and felt the bed dip as he moved closer. “Come with me.”

“Ha ha.”

“ ‘m serious, Kuroo. I’ll teach you Vietnamese so you don’t need to worry about that.”

“Bo—”

“You don’t have a job, your brother told me he’s staying for an internship in the US for the summer, we haven’t seen each other in a long time, and you should see the world before your bones get brittle and break.”

“Oi, I’m not that old.”

“Come on. Come with me. Two— no, one month. Just to try it. You can meet my mom, and my dog, and my Auntie, and my Vietnamese friends—”

Kuroo sighed, screwing his eyes shut. “I can’t think of a good reason to say yes or no, so I’ll think about it.”

Bokuto gave a triumphant little hoot. “I’m counting that as a yes.”

“It’s not a yes, though,” Kuroo warned. Bokuto laughed, tracing a hand down Kuroo’s arm.

“Fine. Maybe.” His hand paused. “Can I kiss you?”

Kuroo really wanted that. And now that everything was somewhat okay for him, if only for the moment, he couldn’t think of anything holding them back.

_ Third time’s a charm, after all. _

So he leaned in and kissed those sweet, slightly dry lips with everything he could give. He felt himself start to smile as Bokuto did, before they both started laughing so much that they couldn’t even call it kissing anymore. But somehow he knew this would be far from their last time to be able to do it again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> nothing super important in notes but thank you to everyone who commented, kudos'd, subbed, bookmarked......!!! if you don't want to hear some of my meta author thoughts on the chapter don't read ahead, just thanks for being here!
> 
> I ended up scrunching the two next chapters together for this chapter so this is the end! there won't be a chapter 13, sorry if you really wanted that :(
> 
> this was my first successful multichap fic and it was a bitch to write, lmao. I originally planned for this to be 5 chapters or so, with the kidnapping being successful and Kuroo and Bokuto just like making out for some reason, then some other vague ideas etc. but that obviously didn't happen (hence why some of the stuff seems weirdly forced into a semi-coherent ending but shhhh) 
> 
> I didn't want to make this super realistic so even though Kuroo defo should have gotten more time, this is so obviously fictional bc i figured a lot of us are sick of the criminal justice system and we just don't need a realistic representation of it :) also I recommend looking into the Japanese justice system. they have some pretty shitty ways of forcing confessions and I think anyone who writes about cops in japan should at least be aware of it. in conclusion: ACAB 
> 
> (also i purposefully sort of left the whole child trafficking ring as an open ended thing. Kuroo doesn't know if it was real and he was essentially doing vigilante work, or if bokuto or wakabayashi or whoever made it up for whatever reasons they had to make it up. i want to leave that up to you guys to decide if you care to do that)
> 
> I'll still be around on AO3 and tumblr but I can't promise any more long multichaps in the future (maybe I'll actually find a beta reader too lmao imagine that)
> 
> anyway that's all for now folks!! until next time!!

**Author's Note:**

> I'm going to try to update every Sunday and Wednesday! We'll see how it goes
> 
> tumblr: goodgollywrites


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